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HOWARD ; 


HE  THRONE,  THE  TOMB,  AND  THE  SCAFFOLD. 


§,tt  Ijistoncal  iJlajr, 

f* 

IN  THREE  ACTS. 

FROM  TIIE  CELEBRATED  PLAY  OF  THAT  NAME  BY 


ALEXANDRE  DUMAS. 


ADAPTED 

Bi  W.  D.  SUTEE, 

Aut  or  of  “ The  Prisoner  of  Pignerolles ,”  “  The  Quiet  Family,”  “ Brother  Bill  and  Me;* 

“  Give  me  my  Wife,”  etc.,  etc. 

AS  FIRST  PERFORMED  AT  THE  SURREY  THEATRE,  LONDON,  UNDER 
THE  MANAGEMENT  OF  MR.  CRESWICK,  1858. 


TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED 


A  U&SCRIPTION  OF  TIIE  COSTUMES — CAST  OF  THE  CHARACTERS - EN¬ 

TRANCES  AND  EXITS — RELATIVE  POSITIONS  OF  THE  PER¬ 
FORMERS  ON  THE  STAGE,  AND  THE  WHOLE 
OF  THE  STAGE  BUSINESS. 


NEW  YORK: 

ROBERT  M.  DE  WITT,  PUBLISHER, 

No.  33  Rose  Street, 


/ 


9 


CAIUEKIXK  HOWARD. 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS. 


Surrey  Theatre, 

London,  1858. 

Henry  VIII.,  King  of  England  (Tragedian) . Mr.  B.  Potter. 

Athelwold,  Duke  of  Northumberland  (Tragedy  Lead) . Mr.  Creswicb 

Archbishop  Cranmer  (Old  Man) . Mr.  Vollaire. 

Duke  of  Sussex  (Walking  Gentleman) . Mr.  W.  Vernon. 

Duke  of  Norfolk  “  . Mr.  Wright. 

Grand  Chamberlain  (Utility) . Mr.  Jones. 

Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  (Utility) . Mr.  Stretton. 

Fleming,  an  Alchemist  (1st  Utility) . Mr.  Perfit. 

Page  to  Athelwold  (Walking  Lady) . Miss  Henzeia.. 

Martin  Krinkly,  a  Cordwainer  (1st  Low  Comedian) . 

Simon  Kreetnur,  a  Weaver  (2d  Low  Comedian) . 

Captain  of  Guard  (Utility) . Mr.  David. 

Executioner  (Utility) . Mr.  Butler. 

Lords,  Pages,  etc. 

Princess  Margaret,  Sister  to  the  King  (Walking  Lady) . Miss  E.  Webster. 

Catherine  Howard,  his  Fifth  Wile  (Tragedy  Lead) . Mrs.  Hudson  Kir  br. 

Dame  Kennedy,  her  Nurse  (Old  Woman) . Mrs.  Atkins. 

Winifred  Krinkly,  Wife  to  Martin  (Chambermaid) . 

Ladies  of  Honor,  etc.,  etc. 


COSTUMES. — Reign  of  Henry  VIII,  1542. 


ILLUSTRATIVE  NOTES. 

The  events  of  this  play  extend  over  a  period  of  some  twenty  months,  commencing 
■with  King  Henry  VIII. ’s  divorcement  from  Anne  of  Cleves,  June,  1540,  andte  n  - 
nating  with  the  beheadal  of  the  heroine,  1512. 

Portraits  of  the  principal  persons  represented,  were  painted  by  Hans  Holbein,  \nd 
are  engraved  in  Holbein’s  Portraits  of  Illustrious  Personages  of  the  Court  of  Henry 
VIII.,  by  Chamberlain,  with  Memoirs  by  Lodge,  seventy  Portraits  tinted  in  imita¬ 
tion  of  the  originals,  folio,  1828 ;  Lodge’s  Portraits  of  Illustrious  Englishmen  ;  H  ir- 
ding’s  Shakspeare  Illustrated,  and  in  many  other  works  ;  also  in  Knight’s  Picto  ial 
Shakspeare.  which  contains  wood  engravings  of  many  of  the  localities  from  com*  ra- 
poraneous  or  early  authorities  with  some  portraits,  which  see. 

King  Henry,  the  second  son  of  Henry  VII.,  was  born  at  Greenwich,  28th  Ju  ue, 
1491  married  the  widow  of  his  brother  Arthur,  Katharine  of  Aragon,  June  25,  1  50 
became  king  April  22,  1509.  In  1527  it  is  supposed  that  he  first  saw  Anne  Bole  yi  , 
whom  he  privately  married  in  Januarv,  1533  (Burnet  says  the  November  previoi  is). 
Elizabeth  was  born  in  September  of  the  same  year.  He  was  divorced  from  Anne 
Bole yn  May,  1536 — married  Jane  Seymour  the  same  month,  the  day  after  Anne’s 
execution.  Jane  Seymour  died  in  October,  1537  ;  he  then  (January,  1540),  married 
Annie  of  Cleves,  who  was  his  wife  but  one  night — in  six  months  the  proceedings  for 
a  divorce  terminated;  and  on  the  8th  of  August  he  married  his  fifth  wife,  Lr<  dy 
Catherine  Howard,  whom  he  beheaded  in  February,  1542.  In  July,  1543,  he  man  ied 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


3 


loO'C 


Cathc  Tine  Parr,  and  died  27 til  of  January,  1517.  There  is  a  fine  portrait  by  Holbein 
repea  tedly  engraved. 

Cai  idinal  Campeius.— Lawrence  Campcjus,  born  at  Bologna,  was  auditor  of  the 
Rota  and  Bishop  of  Feltiia,  then  created.  Cardinal,  was  sent  legate  to  England  in 
1518.  o  prevail  on  tae  king  to  enter  upon  a  war  against  the  Turks,  which  Henry 
v  i  !  issuaded  from  by  Wolsey  ;  he  was  however  well  received,  and  made  Bishop  of 
JSalisl  >ury  ;  he  then  returned  to  Rome.  His  last  visit  to  England  was  upon  account- 
of  the  divorce  of  Katharine,  in  which  proceeding,  by  yielding  to  the  queen’s  appeal 
to  lto:  me, and  his  unwillingness  to  proceed  to  the  extremities  desired  by  Henry,  lie 
greatl  y  displeased  the  king,  who  deprived  him  of  his  see  of  Salisbury.  He  was  an 
excell  cut  scholar,  and  a  benefactor  to  men -of  learning;  and  died  in  Rome,  August, 
1530.  See  a  curious  print  taken  from  a  medal,  engraved  in  Harding. 

Cap  ccics. — Eustachio  Chapuys,  ambassador  from  Charles  V.,  Emperor  of  Spain. 

Cra  nmee_  —  Thomas  Cranmer,  the  second  son  of  Thomas  Cranmer  and  Agnes 
Hatfii  '.'Id  his  wife,  was  born  at  Aslacton,  Northamptonshire,  July  2,  1489.  In  1503 
he  wa  *"  placed  by  his  mother,  then  a  widow,  at  Jesus  College,  Cambridge,  of  which 
lie  bet  mine  a  fellow  in  17)18-1 1.  Before  twenty-three  years  <of  age  he  married  a 
worna  n  of  humble  station  but  good  character,  who  died  in  childbed  about  a  year 
after.  !  In  1523  be  took  the  degree  of  D.D.  The  immediate  cause  of  his  advance¬ 
ment  Vvas  the  opinion  lie  gave  in  favor  of  the  king’s  divorce,  for  which  he  was  made 
Royal  Chaplain.  In  1539,  sent  with  others  into  France,  Italy  and -Germany,  to  col¬ 
lect  oj  |>  interns  in  behalf  of  the  dissolution  of  the  marriage ;  at  Rome  he  presented  his 
book  i  a  favor  of  the  king’s  divorce  to  the  Pope,  and  offered  todispute  openly  against 
the  va  idity  of  his  marriage,  but  his  challenge  was  not  accepted.  At  this  time  the 
Pope  -  ionstituted  him  “Supreme  Penitentiary  throughout  England,  Ireland  and 
Wales,  ”  not  so  much  from  kindness  as  to  quiet  his  active  and  inquiring  spirit,  and 
proven  t  his  joining  the  ranks  of  the  Reformers.  In  1532,  during  liis  residence  abroad, 
he  mai  ried  the  niece  of  his  Mend,  Osiander,  Pastor  -of  Nuremberg,  butfhe  marriage 
was  fo:  r  the  time  concealed.  Upon  the  death  of  Warham,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
Cranm'er  was  nominated  his  successor,  but  he  refused  to  accept  the  dignity,  unless 
he  rec<  ived  it  direct  from  the  king,  without  the  intervention  of  the  Pope.  He  pro- 
nounoi  d  the  sentence -of  divorce  against  Katharine,  for  which  he  was  ex  communica¬ 
ted  by  the  Roman  Pontiff',  and  married  the  king  to  Annie  Boleyn.  After  the  con¬ 
viction  of  that  queen,  he  pronounced  her  marriage  with  the  king  null,  but  pleaded 
warm!  y  with  Henry  for  3ier  life.  He  concurred  in  and  pronounced  the  divorce  of 
Anne  of  Cleves,  .and  gave  that  information  to  the  king  which  led  to  the  trial  and 
■execu1  ion  of  Catherine  Howard.  About  this  time  he  successfully  interceded  with 
Henr  on  behalf  of  his  daughter  Mary,  and  prevented  her  being  committed  to  the 
Towe.  •  and  suffering  as  a  subject,  because  she  hesitated  to  deny  the  Pope’s  spiritual 
supre  macy.  Upon  the  king’s  death  he  was  named  one  of  the  regents  of  the  king¬ 
dom  a  nd  an  executor  of  his  will.  In  February,  1546,  be  crowned  Edward  VI.,  to 
whom  he  had  been  godfather.  Upon  the  accession  of  Mary,  whoselife  he  had  proba¬ 
bly  pi  eserved,  he  at  once  became  the  object  of  persecution,  and  in  November,  1553, 
was  a  ttainted  of  high  treason — he  having  signed  a  proclamation  after  Edward’s 
death  declaring  Lady  Jane  Grey  the  sovereign,  in  place  of  the  Princess  Mary — was 
found  guilty,  but  upon  his  humble  and  repeated  application  he  was  pardoned  the 
treaso  n,  but  proceeded  against  for  heresy.  In  1554,  at  Oxford,  he  was  with  Latimer 
and  P.idley,  condemned  to  death  for  refusing  to  subscribe  to  the  tenets  of  popery. 
Hithe  rto  he  had  manifested  courage,  but  human  frailty  made  him  at  this  time  com¬ 
mit  a  grievous  error;  upon  a  representation  that  his  life  would  be  spared,  be  re¬ 
canted  protestantism  and  embraced  the  Romish  faith;  but  Gardiner  and  Mary  had 
resolved  u-pon  his  death,  and  he  was  sentenced  to  be  burnt  alive.  On  March  21  be 
was  b  rought  to  St.  Mary’s  Church,  where  he  was  desired  publicly  to  repeat  his  belief 
in  poyiery  ;  this  Cranmer  steadily  refused,  crying  aloud,  “  As  for  the  Pope,  I  refuse 
him  as  Christ’s  enemyand  anti-Christ,  with  all  his  false  doctrines.”  Upon  which  he 
was  I  d  to  the  stake,  and  fire  being  applied  to  the  faggots  be  stretched  out  his  right 


4 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


hand  (with  which  he  had  signed  his  recantation)  and  held  it  in  the  flame*  unt  fi  it 
was  consumed,  repeatedly  exclaiming,  “  This  unworthy  hand  !  ”  He  suffered  v  ith 
the  most  exemplary  patience  and  fortitude,  being  in  the  sixty-seventh  year  ot  his 
age.  An  original  portrait  in  the  Picture  Gallery  at  Oxford,  engraved  in  Hard  mg. 
Lodge,  &c. 

Luke  of  Norfolk.— Thomas  Howard,  the  third  duke.  Although  an  u risen,  pu- 
lo-us  sei'vant,  his  devotion  was  forgotten  by  the  king  in  his  fears  that  he  might  •  lis— 
turb  the  succession  ;  he  was  therefore  accused,  and  of  course  convicted,  by  his  j*  eers, 
of  high  treason,  a  bill  of  attainder  also  passing  the  House  of  Lords.  He  wa>  or¬ 
dered  for  execution  on  the  28th  January,  15-17,  but  the  death  of  the  regal  gho\  il  at 
two  in  the  morning  of  that  day  saved  him.  He  died  in  1554.  His  portrait  at  W  ind- 
sor  is  engraved  in  Harding  and  Lodge. 

Lord  Chamberlain. — Sir  William,  created  Lord  Sands,  1523,  succeeded  1  jord 

Worcester  as  Chamberlain,  1526. 

* 


TTJE  SCENERY  AND  LOCALITIES. 

ACT  I. — The  action  of  the  first  scene  takes  place  at  the  King’s  Palace  at  B  ride*'- 
well,  a  pile  of  considerable  magnitude,  and  possessed  of  much  architectural  eleg  t  .nee. 
The  Thames  front,  with  its  imposing  castellated  aspect — (see  Pictorial  Shakzj  -eare , 
Henry  VIII.,  Act  111.) — reached  the  river  banks,  and  extended  northward  :  is  far 
as  St.  Bride’s  Church;  it  had  also  a  magnificent  exterior  faeing  Fleet  Stiver,  ©  a  the 
other  side  of  which  the  Monastery  of  the  BSackfriars  was  located.  Both  the  }  lalace 
and  church  derived:  their  name  from  St.  Bride  or  Bridget,  to  whom  the  ehurc  h  was 
d’edicated,  the  palace  fairing  the  addition  of  well  or  Bride’s  Well  from  a  s  pring 
near  it,  which  still  remains,  and  supplies  a  pump  at  the  bottom  of  Bride  Lane. 

Scene  2d. — Street.  See  a  eut  in  Pictm-ial  Shakspecrre,  Henry  VIII. 

ACT  II. — Scene  Id — Chapel  Vaults.  The  male  effigies  on  tombs  have-  the 
Northumberland  lion  at  their  feet,  the  female,  a  greyhound . 

Scene  2d. — Street. 

Scene  3d. — Reception  Chamber.  The  lion  will  figure  on  pennons  and  banr  ;erets 
©n.  the  walk 

ACT  III. — i Scene  1st. — Tli  rone -room.  Hangings  of  crimson  satin  and  daniask, 
fringed  deeply  with  gold,  cipher  of  “  II,”  canopy,  chair  of  State,  with  royal  ?  ms, 
etc.,  etc.  The  print  by  Vertue,  of  “Henry  VIII.  granting  the  Barber-surg  ons* 
charter,”  shows  the  royal  seat  in  position. 

Scene  2d.— To  enable  the  removal  to  be  made  of  the  throne-room  paraphernal  jia. 

Scene  3d. — Queen’s  chamber. 

Scene  4:th.— Plain  room,  dark  panelling. . 

Scene  5th— Tower  cell.  See  Geo.  Cruikshank’s  etchings  of  State  Executions  i» 
Ainsworth’s  “  Tower  of  London,”  etc. 


COSTUMES. 

( From  Knight's  “  Pictorial  Shakspeare.”} 

BY  .T.  R.  PLAN  CHE. 

The  male  costume  of  the  reign  of  King  Henry  VIII.  has  been  rendered  familiar 
by  innumerable  portraits  of  “  Bluff  King  Hal,”  principally  copied  from  the  paint¬ 
ings  )  y  Holbein,  and  the  female  costume  scarcely  less  so  l>y  those  of  his  six  wives. 


CATHEUINK  HOWARD. 


5 


The  best  authority  for  the  dress  of  the  monarch  and  his  nobles  would  be  the  full- 
length  by  Holbein,  engraved  in  “  Lodge’s  Portraits,”  or  the  print  by  Yertue,  in 
which  Henry  is  seen  granting  a  charter  to  the  Barber-surgeons,  For  Duke  of  Nor¬ 
folk,  Cavendish’s  “  Life  of  Wolsey,”  a  MS.  copy  formerly  in  possession  of  Francis 
Douce,  has  three  very  curious  drawings,  representing — 1st,  Cardinal  Wolsey ’s  pro¬ 
gress  on  his  way  to  France,  with  archers,  spearmen,  cross,  pillar,  and  purse-bearers, 
<£c.  ;  2dly,  The  cardinal  surrendering  the  great  seal  to  the  Dukes  of  Norfolk  and 
Suffolk ;  and,  3dly,  Dr.  Butts  sent  by  the  King  and  Anne  Boleyntothe  sick  cardinal 
with  tokens  oi  tavor.  Engraved  in  the  Pictorial  Shakspeare. 

In  the  same  beautiful  work  by  Lodge,  before  mentioned,  another  portrait  will  be 
found  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  by  Holbein ;  and  Cranmer,  by  Flick,  the  original 
paint  ing  being  in  the  British  Museum.  Also  a  most  interesting  one  of  Titian’s  Earl 
of  Surrey,  represented  in  a  magnificent  suit  of  armor,  thereby  giving  us  a  splendid 
specimen  of  the  military  costume  of  the  period.  In  addition  to  the  information  con¬ 
veyed.  to  the  eye  by  this  collection  of  authentic  portraits,  it  will  be  sufficient  to 
quote,  from  the  sumptuary  law  passed  in  the  24th  year  of  Henry’s  reign,  such  pas¬ 
sages  as  will  describe  the  materials  of  which  the  dresses  were  made,  and  which  were, 
indeed,  at  this  time  of  the  most  costly  description.  The  royal  family  alone  were 
permitted  to  use  the  fur  of  the  black  genet ;  and  sables  could  only  be  worn  by  noble¬ 
men  above  the  rank  of  a  viscount.  Crimson  or  blue  velvet,  embroidered  apparel,  or 
garments  bordered  “with  gold  sunken  work,”  were  forbidden  to  any  person  beneath 
the  quality  of  a  baron  or  knight’s  son  or  heir;  and  velvet  dresses  of  any  color,  furs 
of  ma  rtens,  chains,  bracelets,  and  collars  of  gold,  were  prohibited  to  all  persons  pos¬ 
sessing  less  than  two  hundred  marks  per  annum.  The  sons  and  heirs  of  such  per¬ 
sons  were,  however,  permitted  the  use  of  black  velvet  or  damask,  and  tawny-colored 
russet  or  camlet.  Satin  and  damask  gowns  were  confined  to  the  use  of  persons  pos¬ 
sessing  at  least  one  hundred  marks  per  annum  ;  and  the  wearing  of  plaited  shirts, 
garnis  hed  with  gold,  silver  or  silk,  was  permitted  to  none  below  the  rank  of  knight¬ 
hood.  The  hair  was  cut  remarkably  close,  a  peremptory  order  having  been  issued  by 
Henry  to  all  his  attendants  and  courtiers  to  “  poll  their  heads.”  Beards  and  mous¬ 
taches;  were  worn  at  pleasure. 

The  jewelled  cap  and  feather  with  which  Holbein  has  represented  Anne  Boleyn  in 
the  portraits  engraved  in  Cavendish’s  “  Life  of  Wolsey,”  ore  exceedingly  picturesque. 
The  other  head-dress,  probably  the  often-talked-of  “  French  hood,”  is  better  known, 
nearly  all  Henry’s  wives  being  represented  in  it.  The  gown  was  cut  square  at  the 
bosom,  as  in  the  preceding  reign ;  but  instead  of  the  neck  being  bare,  it  was  covered 
almost  to  the  throat  by  the  partlet ,  a  sort  of  habit-shirt,  much  like  the  modern  one, 
embijoidered  with  gold  and  silk.  The  sleeves  of  the  gowns  were  frequently  of  a  dif¬ 
ferent.  material  from  that  which  composed  the  rest  of  the  dress,  and  generally  of  a 
richejr  stuff.  The  gown  was  open  in  front  to  the  waist,  showing  the  krrtle  or  petti¬ 
coat,  and  with  or  without  a  train,  according  to  the  prevailing  fashion  of  France  or 
Hollund.  Anne  of  Cleves  is  described  as  wearing  a  gown  made  round  without  any 
tram,  afrer  the  Dutch  fashion ;  while  the  train  of  Catherine  Parr  is  stated  to  have 
"been  more  than  two  yards  long.  A  minute  account  is  given  by  Hall  of  the  corona¬ 
tion  :of  Queen  Anne  Boleyn,  and  also  by  Cavendish,  who  has  described  the  proces¬ 
sion  and  the  ceremony.  On  one  occasion  she  wore  a  surcoat  of  white  cloth  of  tissue, 
and  a  mantle  of  the  same,  furred  with  ermine,  her  hair  hanging  down  from  under  a 
coif,  with  a  circlet  about  it  full  of  rich  stones ;  on  a  second,  a  surcoat  and  robe  of 
purple  velvet,  furred  with  ermine,  the  coif  and  circlet  as  before.  The  barons  of  the 
Cinque  Ports,  who  carried  the  canopy  over  her,  were  “  all  in  crimson,  with  points  of 
blue  and  red  hanging  on  their  sleeves.”  The  ladies,  “  being  lords’  wives,”  that  fol¬ 
lowed  her,  “  had  surcoats  of  scarlet  with  narrow  sleeves,  the  breast  all  lettiee  (fur), 
witl  bars  of  borders  ( i .  e.,  rows  of  ermine)  according  to  their  degrees,  and  over  that 
the}-  had  mantles  of  scarlet  furred,  and  every  mantle  had  lettiee  about  the  neck,  like 
a  neekercher,  likewise  powdered  (with  ermine),  so  that  by  the  powderings  their  de¬ 
gree'  was  known.  Then  followed  ladies,  being  knights’s  wives,  in  gowns  of  scarlet 


6 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


with  narrow  sleeves,  without  trains,  only  edged  with  lettice.”  The  queen's  gentle¬ 
women  were  similarly  attired  with  the  last.  The  lord  chancellor  wore  a  rolie  of 
scarlet,  open  before,  and  bordered  with  lettice.  The  dukes  were  in  crimson  velvet, 
furred  with  ermine,  and  pow  dered  according  to  their  degrees.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk’s- 
doublet  and  jacket  were  set  with  orient  pearl ;  his  gown  of  crimson  velvet,  richly 
embroidered ;  and  he  carried  a  white  rod  in  his  hand,  being  that  day  high  steward 
of  England.  The  knights  of  the  Bath  wore  “  violet  gowns,  with  hoods  purfled  with 
miniver,  like  doctors.’’ 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES, 

BY  T.  H.  EACY,  ESQ. 

Soon  after  the  accession  of  Henry  VIII,  the  long  petticoat  dresses  of  the  previous; 
reign  were  cast  aside,  and  close  hose  fitted  exactly  to  the  limbs,  were  almost  univer¬ 
sally  adopted,  and  trunk  breeches  were  usually  connected  with  the  close  hose, 
“  The  lower  pai’ts  were  never  so  scanted,,  but  the  upper  made  ample  amends  for  the 
fault,  for  the  doublets  were  so  bombasted  with  Linings,  and  the  sleeves  so  stuffed  out, 
that  they  were  cumbersome  both  to  the  body  and  arms.” — Crammer1  s  Bible  with 
wood-cuts,  1540.  The  ladies. followed  the  example  of  the  gentlemen,  and  invented  a 
.  kind  of  doublet  with  high  wings  and  puffed  sleeves— this  garment  was  in  full  fashion 
to  the  beginning  of  Elizabeth’s-  reign.  Henry  VIII.  wTore  a  round  flat  cap  of  scarlet 
or  of  velvet,  with  a  brooch  or  jewel,  and.  a  feather;  “divers  gentlemen,  courtiers,, 
and  others  did  the  like.  The  youthful  citizens  also  took  to  the  new  fashion  of  flat 
caps,  knit  of  woollen  yarn,  blaek,  but  so  tight-  that  they  were  forced  to  tie  them 
under  their  chins,  for  else  the  wind  would  be  master  over  tliem.  The  king  wore 
cloth  hose,  cut  out  of  ell  brood,  taffeta,  when  there  came  not,  by  great  cliance,  .a  pair 
of  silk  stockings  from  Spain.”— Stowe,  Upon  the  day  preceding,  his  coronation, 
Henry  “  wared  on  his  uppermost  apparell  a  robe  of  crimsyn  veLvet,  pined  with, 
ermine;  his  jacket,  a  cote  of  raised!  gold,  the  placard  embrowdered  with  diamonds, 
rubies,  emeralds,  great  pearles,  ami  other  rich  stones;  a  great  bauderick  about  his 
neck  of  large  balasses  ;  Ms  knights-  and  esquires  in  crimson,  velvet,  and  all  the  gen¬ 
tlemen,  and  all  the  servant  sand  household  servants ■were*  apparelled  in  skavlet.”' 
“  The  queen  sitting  in  her  litter,  borne  by  two- white  palfreys-,  trapped  in  white  clotl 
of  gold,  her  person  appareled  in  white-  satyn  embrowdered,  her  hair  hanging  low-i. 
to  her  backe  of  a  very  groat  length,  bewtiful  and  goodly  to  beheld,  and  on  Tier  h  edde- 
a-  coronal!  set  with  many  rich  Orient  stones.”  The  gloves  parteok  of  the  general 
richness  in  construction :  we  read  of  “  a  payer  of  gloves,  lined  with  white  velvet, 
trimmed  with  eight  buttons  and  eight  small  aiglets  of  gold  enamelled ; ,T  also  i  nit 
gloves  of  silk,  and  handkerchiefs;  edged  with  gold  and  silver,  others  with  needle¬ 
work. 


PROPERTIES. 

Act  I.— Scene  1st'. — Chairs.  Scene  2d,  tables  with  fruit  and  flowers — toilet  table — 
glass — chairs— couch — jewels  in  casket— vial  for  Athelwold— hand-bell.  Act 

II — Scene  1st. — Lamp  with  blue  flame-ring  for  King.  Scene  3d,  sofa,  writing 
materials— vial  and  key  or  Athelwold.  Act  III. — Scene  1st — Key  and  rim;  as 
before.  Scene  5th — Lamp,  table,  chair,  large  book  open,  writing  materials,  cru¬ 
cifix,  bell  to  toll,  ring  as  before — red  mark,  steel  axe  with  red  handle — spear  ind 
halberds  for  guards. 

[For  Programme  of  Scenery  and  Incidents  and  Stage  Directions,  see  last  page,  j 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


t 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — Reception  Chamber  in  Palace ,  in  2 d  grooves.  Folding  doors ,  r. 
c.,  doors  l.  1  e  ,  and  r.  1  e.,  a  small  door ,  c.  in  flat. 

Enter  Duke  op  Norfolk,  and  Duke  of  Sussex,  l.,  preceded  by  the 

Grand  Chamberlain. 

Sussex.  His  majesty  is  not  yet  visible  1 
Cham.  Not  yet,  my  lord. 

Norfolk.  Is  there  any  change  in  the  ordinary  ceremonial  ? 

Cham.  None)  my  lord. 

Enter  Archbishop  Ceanmer,  l. 

Cranmer.  Good-morrow  to  your  lordships,  {they  bow)  Tell,  me,  my 
lords,  is  the  difference  yet  settled  with  James  of  Scotland  I 

Nor.  Ii  has  hardly  commenced  ;  for  on  the  instant  war  will  be  de¬ 
clared  by  our  noble  king,  Henry. 

Cham.  My  lords,  his  majesty’s  sister,  the  Princess  Margaret. 

Enter  Princess  Margaret,  r  1  e.,  attended — All  bow. 

Nor.  We  were  speaking,  madam,  of  the  threatened  war  against  Scot¬ 
land. 

Princess.  My  lord,  since  Heaven  has  kindly  given  a  son  unto  my 
brother,  and  so  ta’en  from  me  all  chance  of  succeeding  to  England’s 
throne,  I  no  longer  seek  instruction  in  war  and  politics  ;  therefore,  I 
pray  that  you  will  spare  me  the  bellicose  discussion.  ( folding  doors ,  r. 
c.,  are  thrown  open  by  Pages.) 

Ciiam,  His  majesty  approaches. 

Enter  King  Henry,  r.  c.,  attended. 

HenEy.  My  lords,  good-morrow  ;  sifter,  how  fares  it  with  thee  1 
{looking  around)  How,  our  cousin  of  Northumberland  not  yet  arrived  I 

Enter  Atiielwold,  l.  1  e. 

Athel.  Health  to  your  majesty  ! 

Hen.  You  are  welcome,  my  lord  ;  we  have  something  for  your  private 
ear. 


8 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


Music — the  Pages  bring  forward  a  chair  to  c. — Henry  waves  his  hand — - 
Margaret,  fie.,  go  off,  r. — Norfolk,  Suffoek,  §c.,  l. — the  King’s 
Attendants  c .-doors  are  closed — IIenry  approaches  Archbishop 
Cranmer  and  boivs  before  him—  Cranmer  raises  his  hands  above 
Henry,  and  goes  off ,  l.  1  e. 

Athelwold,  ray  friend— look  on  me.  I  am  a  king,  great  and  powerfnl — 
perchance  there  is  not  one  amongst  my  subjects  by  whom  I  am  not 
envied  ;  and  yet  I  swear  to  you  there  are  times  when  I  envy  the  poorest 
and  meanest  of  my  subjects. 

Atiiel.  You,  sire! 

Hen.  Yes;  for  the  lowest  of  my  subjects  may  have  a  wife  and  chil¬ 
dren  who  love  him — the  lowest  of  my  subjects  is  therefore  happier  than 
his  king. 

Atiiel.  But  your  queens  have  loved  you,  sire — and  the  children  they 
have  left  you - 

Hen  Of  my  four  marriages,  what  now  remains  to  me  ?  The  remem¬ 
brance  of  a  few  days  of  happiness,  and  twenty  years  of  remorse,  grief, 
and  shame  —two  daughters  whom  the  law  has  declared  incapable  to 
reign,  and  a  son  that  Heaven  has  declared  incapable  to  live. 

Athel.  Sire!  a  new  marriage  may  yet  bring  you  that  happiness 
which  hitherto  you  have  vainly  sought. 

Hen.  I  know  it,  and  will  once  more  tempt  my  fate;  but  this  time  my 
queen  shall  be  chosen  from  amidst  the  people — she  must  be  young  that 
I  may  love  her,  beautiful  that  she  may  gratify  my  priue,  and  wise  that 
I  may  fearlessly  confide  in  her  discretion. 

Athel.  Where  will  your  majesty  seek  this  paragon  — this  treasure? 

Hen.  She  in  already  found,  cousin,  and  resides  on  the  banks  of  the 
Thames  within  a  few  miles  of  my  palace — an  aged  nurse  has  reared  her 
— since  almost  from  her  infancy  she  has  been  an  orphan. 

Athel.  Her  name  is,  doubtless,  as  yet  a  secret. 

Hen.  No,  coz,  that  you  may  render  me  the  service  I  am  about  to  ask 
of  you,  it  is  even  necessary  that  you  should  know  it — her  name  is  Cath¬ 
erine  Howard,  (rises.) 

Athel.  (clinging  to  chair  for  support)  Catherine  Howard  ! 

Hen.  Yes,  my  lord,  (smiling)  Tis  an  obscure  name,  is  it  not? — so 
obscure  that  only  the  eye  of  Fleming,  my  Alchemist  could  have  discov¬ 
ered  it. 

Athel  Fleming  !  so  it  was,  he  that - 

Hen.  Yes,  in  a  manner  most  simple,  and  (smiling)  without  having  re¬ 
course  to  sorcery  or  enchantment.  He  was  seeking  in  the  neighborhood 
of  London  the  herbs  necessary  for  his  chemical  operations,  when,  sur¬ 
prised  by  a  shower  of  rain,  he  sought  shelter  in  the  isolated  mansion 
inhabited  by  that  girl;  so  marvellous  a  tieasure  astounded  him— he 
knew  my  intentions,  and,  on  his  return,  told  me  of  her. 

Athel.  And  on  his  mere  word  your  majesty  has  decided? 

Hen.  Oh,  no.  Yesterday,  guided  by  our  old  Alchemist,  and  per¬ 
fectly  disguised,  a  boat  conveyed  us  to  the  spot  where  dwells  the  lady 
who  has  so  occupied  our  thoughts.  * 

Athel.  And  tlier a - - 

Hen.  We  beheld  her — wandering  on  the  banks  of  the  river — and  in  a 
profound  reverie,  as  if  she  already  felt  a  presentiment  of  the  high  des¬ 
tiny  that  awaits  her. 

Athel.  (quickly).  And — and  Fleming  had  exaggerated! 

Hen.  No — she  far  excelled  all  that  he  had  said  of  her,  my  lord — th« 
beauty  of  Anne  Boleyn,  the  grace  of  Jane  Seymour - - 


ACT  I. 


9 


Athel.  And  you  spoke  to  her  ? 

Hen.  No,  my  lord,  she  modestly  retired,  as  she  perceived  our  boat 
approaching  her.  I  intended  to  have  seen  her  again  this  day,  or,  at 
furthest,  to-morrow,  but  this  sudden  war  with  Scotland  has  deprived 
me  of  all  leisure  ;  1  have,  therefore,  formed  a  fresh  resolution.  You, 
my  lord,  will  to-morrow  seek  her,  with  a  befitting  escort  chosen  from  the 
people  of  thy  palace,  and  you  will  bring  the  young  lady  hither,  and 
confide  her  to  the  care  of  the  Princess  Margaret,  to  whom,  on  my  re¬ 
commendation,  she  will  become  a  Maid  of  Honor.  And  now  I  may  no 
longer  linger  with  you,  for  I  am  stayed  for  at  the  council  board.  Adieu, 
and  remember  that  1  rely  on  your  devotion  to  your  king.  [Exit,  l.  1  e. 

Athelwold  sinks  into  chair ,  for  a  moment  overpowered ;  then  suddenly 

starting  up  hurries  to  door,  l.  c.,  at  which  he  knocks  violently,  and  calls. 

Athel.  Fleming,  Fleming. 

Fleming  ( without ,  l  c.).  Who  calls  7 

Athel.  Forth  from  your  bui row,  old  fox — to  the  broad  daylight,  dis¬ 
ciple  of  hell — a  Christian  would  speak  with  you - - 

Enter  Fleming,  d.  l.  c. 

Flem.  How  can  I  serve  your  lordship  ? 

Athel.  The  king  has  this  instant  left  me. 

Flem.  Heaven  preserve  his  majesty. 

Athel.  Amen.  ( raising  his  hat)  So,  old  calculator,  you  have  chosen  a 
fifth  wife  for  Henry  l 

Flem.  Yes,  and  one,  as  my  science  tells  me,  will  make  him  happy. 

Athel.  Your  science,  then,  has  lied,  most  learned  Fleming,  for  this 
marriage  enn  never  be. 

Flem.  Wherefore  1 

Athel.  For  this  reason — she  whom  you  would  cause  the  king  to 
espouse — Catherine  Howard,  is  it  not? 

Flem.  Yes,  well  ? 

Athel.  Well,  she  is  my  wife. 

Flem.  Mercy — I  am  lost. 

Athel.  Yes,  Fleming,  thou  art  lost;  for  thou  know’st  the  law  which 
after  Anne  Boleyn’s  death  was  passed  by  Henry’s  orders. 

Flem.  Yes,  yes. 

Athel.  This  law  condemns  to  the  same  scaffold  the  Queen  who,  not 
being  a  maiden,  wedded  the  king,  without  avowing  first  the  truth,  and 
all  others,  male  and  female,  who  shall  have  counselled  or  aided  in  the 
marriage.  Soho!  you  promised  him  a  wife,  young,  beautiful,  and  vir¬ 
tuous  ;  Catherine  is  all  these — but  think  you  that  such  virtue  would 
content  the  judge  of  Catherine  of  Aragon,  the  executioner  of  Anne 
Boleyn  ? 

Flem.  Confess  all  to  him,  my  lord,  and  he  will  pardon  you,  for  me - > 

Athel.  Pardon  !  oh  yes — and  would  make  of  my  wife  a  Maid  of 
Honor  to  Princess  Margaret— would  send  me  to  do  battle  in  the  High¬ 
lands  !  no,  Fleming,  no,  no ! 

Flem.  Oh,  my  lord,  have  pity  on  me. 

Athel.  Pity  for  thee  !  whose  pandering  search  has  crushed  my  every 
hope  in  life — who  over  my  bright  and  golden  days  has  cast  a  pall-like 
shadow  !  who  1  prithee  is  to  pity  me? 

Flem.  Oh,  is  there  no  way  by  which  your  happiness  and  my  life  may 
be  preserved  ? 

Atiiel.  Yes,  one  way. 


10 


CA'I  IIEIUN'E  110WAKD. 


Flem.  All! 

Athel.  Dangerous. 

Flem.  No  matter. 

Athel.  Desperate! 

Flem.  Speak ! 

Athel.  It  is  I,  who  am  commissioned  by  the  king  to  seek  Catherine, 
and  conduct  her  to  the  court. 

Flem.  When  I 

Athel.  To-morrow 

Flem.  Oh,  Heaven 

Athel.  The  king  must  not  again  behold  her. 

Flem.  No,  or  we  are  lost,  for  he  already  loves  her. 

Athel.  Then  is  it  necessary  that  this  night  she  die. 

Flem.  My  lord,  I  have  the  most  subtle  poisons. 

Athel.  ( seizing  him).  Miscreant. 

Flem.  Mercy  ! 

Atiiel.  She  must  die  to  the  king ,  and  all  the  world ,  but  she  must  live 
for  me,  for  me  alone. 

Flem-  What  would  my  lord  that  I  should  do  1 

Atael.  Is  there  not  a  distillation  which  can  suddenly  arrest  the  blood 
within  the  veins,  stay  the  beatings  of  the  heart,  and  for  a  while  suspend 
the  course  of  life  1  may  not  this  sleep  resemble  death  so  closely  as  to 
deceive  the  most  mistrustful  eye  ? 

Flem.  Yes,  my  lord,  and  I  possess  the  secret  of  that  liquid. 

Athel.  And  can  answer  for  its  effect  1 

Flem.  With  my  life. 

Athel.  Well,  for  that  liquid,  I  will  give  you  more  gold  than  during 
an  entire  year  your  furnace  could  produce. 

Flem.  Descend  with  me,  my  lord,  to  my  laboratory. 

Atiiel.  And  in  an  hour  I 

Flem.  You  will  leave  it  with  the  philtre  that  you  need. 

Athel.  ( staying  him).  A  moment,  Fleming— you  have  well  understood 
me — this  is  for  you  an  affair  of  life  or  death  ! 

Flem.  My  life  is  in  your  lordship’s  hands! 

Athel.  Lead  on.  [Exeunt  L.  c. — clear  stage , 

SCENE  II. — Catherine's  Chamber— door  in  p.  r.  c.,  looking  on  to  open 
country — doors  r.  and  L. — small  table,  covered  with  fruit  and  flowers,  L. 
— toilet  table ,  glass,  §c.,  R.,  chairs,  couch,  <S;c. 

Cathrine  enters,  D.  r.  f.,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Dame  Kennedy. 

Kennedy.  We  have  had  but  a  short  walk,  my  child. 

Cath.  Yes,  good  nurse,  for  it  grows  late. 

Ken.  The  sun  has  scarcely  set,  and  at  this  hour,  seen  from  yonder 
height,  the  horizon  is  so  beautiful. 

Cath  (smiling).  Yes,  magniflcant ;  but  it  is  the  same  sun  and  the 
same  horizon  that  I  saw  yesterday,  (sits,  l.) 

Ken.  There,  now,  you  are  sad  again. 

Cath.  Nay,  nurse,  not  sad  but  wearied. 

Ken.  And  can  you  pine  amidst  the  lovely  country  that  surrounds 
you 

Cath.  Yes  ;  if  I  saw  it  for  the  first  time,  I  should  no  doubt  think  it 
very  beautiful ;  but  for  eighteen  years  I  have  gazed  upon  the  same  pros¬ 
pect. 

Kf,n.  And  how  long,  then,  have /looked  upon  it  and  have  not  wearied 
yet  ?  I  thank  Heaven  that  has  enabled  me  to  limit  my  desires  to  things 


ACT  I. 


11 


within  my  reach,  and  has  never  inspired  me  with  thought  of  happiness 
in  aught  beyond. 

Cath.  And  yet,  nurse,  all  that  is  beyond  our  power  of  attainment 
must  be,  indeed,  delightful.  London,  they  say,  ’tis  magnificent.  Oh. 
shall  I  ever  inhabit  London  ? 

Ken.  Some  day,  child — you  will  marry,  for  you  are  too  beautiful  and 
too  good,  not  to  find  a  rich  and  noble  husband. 

Cath.  {quickly).  Oh,  yes ;  and  dwell  in  London — in  a  palace— own  a 
forest  wherein,  with  falcon  on  my  wrist,  I  can  pursue  the  game,  followed  by 
pages,  and  by  valets.  You  shall  accompany  me  through  my  estates — 
shall  behold  me  receive  the  homage  of  my  vassals.  Oh  !  then  I  shall 
no  longer  pine,  for  I  shall  be  rich,  and  beautiful — ay,  and  powerful,  too 
— shall  need  but  to  command,  for  none  will  dare  to  disobey. 

Ken.  Silly  girl ! 

Cath.  Oh,  D  ime,  were  I  told  that  I  should  always  continue  thus — in 
this  lone  an  l  paltry  cottage — within  these  stifling  walls — in  rooms  so 
poorly  furnished — I  would,  believe  me,  rather  lie  within  a  coffin,  pro¬ 
vided  it  were  covered  by  a  noble  tomb  of  marble. 

Ken.  There  are  days,  my  child,  when  the  dreams  of  your  imagination 
terrify  me.  Trust  me,  ’twere  best  you  should  abandon  all  such  thoughts, 

Cath.  Oh,  no,  they  are  my  only  wealth — my  dreams,  my  only  happi¬ 
ness,  you  must  not  take  from  me  When  alor.e,  l  hear  strange  voices 
murmur  in  my  ear— see  strange  visions  float  before  my  eyes— in  the  fire 
are  salamanders  that  in  their  sport  do  raise  a  thousand  sparkles — in  the 
water  which  flows  beneath  our  windows  there  bathes  a  Naiad  who,  each 
time  that  I  bend  to  her,  salutes  me  as  a  sister.  The  perfumed  breeze 
which  evening  brings  us  passes  laden  with  sylphs,  who  stay  and  nestle 
’midst  my  tresses  ;  aid  fairies,  nfriads,  sylphs,  all — all  whisper  words  in 
mv  ears; — Oh,  words  that  almost  drive  me  mad. 

Ken.  What  an  age  of  happiness  when  on  >  has  but  to  close  the  eyes  to 
b  “hold  such  wonders,  and  when  dreams  are  a  consolation  for  the  reality  ; 
but,  beware,  my  child,  of  all  the  demons  that,  in  their  waking,  or 
their  sleeping  hours,  do  hover  around  young  girls  !  the  most  dangerous, 
and  the  most  difficult  to  be  banished  is  the  demon  of  ambition. 

[Exit,  r. 

Cath.  Nay,  good  nurse— he  is  not  a  demon — but  an  angel,  and  the 
most  attractive — the  most  splendid  is  the  king  of  the  hosts,  for  he  has 
golden  wings,  and  iiis  head  is  surmounted  by  a  crown.  So,  good  nurse, 
go,  and  let  me  open  the  door  bv  which  all  my  dreams  do  enter  and  de¬ 
part.  (Catherine  close s  door  after  Kennedy,  then  goes  to  and  opens  door 
in  flit ,  r.  c.)  Will  Athehvold  come  this  evening  ?  This  morning  he  said 

perhaps” — perhaps  is  always  yes.  How  much  he  loves  me— and  yet 
he  cannot,  or  wherefore  conceal  from  me  his  name  and  rank  ?  Each 
morning  do  I  hope  that  during  the  day  I  shall  know  the  w hole -evening 
arrives,  and  I  have  learned  nothing.  He  is  “  very  happy  when  he  can 
steal  a  few  hours.”  From  whom?  I  do  not  know — from  another,  per¬ 
haps,  that  he  may  give  them  to  me— to  me,  buried  here,  far  from  the 
world,  a  prisoner,  a  slave,  (sits,  l.)  The  evening  hours  are  laden  with 
pleasures  to  dwellers  in  cities,  but  I  sit  here  alone  and  sad,  awaiting  my 
husband,  who  perchance  will  not  come— my  husband  who  has  title  and 
rank — of  that  I’m  certain — and  who  gives  me  neither  rank  nor  title. 
(rises)  If,  however,  I  were  with  him  now,  in  London— instead  of  doffing 
this  simple  robe — whose  plainness  humbles  me  — to  seek  before  the  hour 
a  sleep  that  will  not  come,  I  should  be  seated  at  my  toilet.  ( sits  before 
glass  at  table ,  r  )  I  should  choose  from  the  caskets  that  he  has  given  me, 
so  useless  to  me  here,  the  richest  of  my  jewels.  ( opening  caskets  and  deck¬ 
ing  herself  with  jewels)  I  would  put  this  necklace  of  pearls  around  my 


12 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


neck — these  diamonds  in  my  ears — these  bracelets  on  my  arms.  Amid 
the  simple  flowers  in  my  hair  these  tiny  diamond  stars — this  girdle  of 
precious  stones  should  encircle  my  waist — a  page  should  precede  us — 
halls  resplendant  with  light  would  be  opened  to  us,  and  when  I  appeared 
— oh,  if  my  mirror  deceive  me  not,  no  voice  around  but  would  exclaim, 
never  was  queen  more  brilliantly  attired — never  was  queen  more  beau¬ 
tiful. 

Athelwold  has  entered ,  r.  c.,  and  has  heard  the  last  tioo  or  three  lines  of 
the  speech — he  advances  to  the  back  of  her  chair — she  sees  his  shadow  m 
the  glass ,  and  starts  up. 

Ah  !  oh,  Athelwold,  I  did  not  see  you. 

Atiiel.  I  know  it!  you  were  by  far  too  interestingly  occupied  to  ob¬ 
serve  my  arrival. 

Cath.  Am  1  pretty  thus  ? 

Athel.  But  too  beautiful,  lady  !  ( aside )  for  my  happiness. 

Cath.  Then,  thank  Heaven  that  hath  made  me  so  for  you.  Now  coma 
to  me,  and  embrace  me,  my  lord.  ( he  receives  her  in  his  arms ,  bat  does  not 
embrace  her )  Besides,  it  was  instinct  which  caused  me  thus  to  deck  my 
figure — 1  have  made  myself  beautiful  from  a  presentiment ;  my  heart 
told  me  that  you  would  come  to  me — so,  smooth  that  thoughtful  brow  ; 
sit,  and  I  will  place  myself  at  your  feet,  my  gentle  chevalier — my  gal¬ 
lant  baron — my  noble  earl.  ( seating  herself  at  his  feet )  By  which  of  these 
titles  must  I  call  you  ? 

Athel.  By  none  of  them — for  none  can  I  claim  ! 

Cath.  But  liow  did  you  come?  for  I  did  not  hear  the  gallop  of  your 
steed. 

Atiiel.  I  came  by  the  Thames,  in  a  fisherman’s  boat,  for  to-day,  more 
than  ever,  did  I  dread  being  recognized. 

Cath.  Ever  mysterious!  you  therefore  have  very  powerful  motives? 

Atiiel.  Judge  of  their  import,  my  love,  since  I  conceal  them  from 
you,  who  are  my  life - 

Cath.  Oh,  if  you  love  me - 

Athel.  Never  before  was  woman  loved  by  man  as  I  love  thee,  my 
Catherine. 

Cath.  Forgive  me! 

Athel.  ( taking  her  head  between  his  hands').  Look  on  me,  dearest — my 
heart  till  its  last  throb,  my  life  till  its  latest  breath,  my  blood  to  the  last 
drop,  are  thine,  all  thine,  and  thine  alone,  Kate;  and  should  I  lose  thee, 
should  another — ch,  heaven  ! 

Cath.  You  suffer! 

Athel.  Yes,  I  am  fatigued,  my  forehead  burns — give  me  drink — drink  ! 

Cath.  ( rising ).  Oh,  yes,  yes,  my  lord.  ( while  she  goes  to  and  opens  a 
cabniet,  k.,  he  draws  a  vial  from  Jus  vest,  and  pours  a  portion  of  its  contents 
into  a  goblet  which  is  on  l.  table.') 

Atiiel.  (aside).  Heaven  pardon  me,  that  thus  I  tempt  thy  power ! 

Cath.  In  default  of  page,  will  you  suffer  me  to  be  vour  cupbearer?  (he 
holds  the  cup)  she  pours.) 

Atiiel.  Thanks  ! 

Cath.  Your  hand  trembles! 

Athel.  (still  seated,  and  taking  her  in  his  arms).  Kate,  Kate  !  oh,  never 
— never  ! 

Cath.  You  are  very  sad  to-night.  How  shall  I  cheer  your  drooping 
spirits  ?  shall  I  say  to  you  the  ballad  made  of  that  ancient  King  of  En¬ 
gland,  Edgar,  who  married  with  a  vassal,  the  beautiful  Elfrida. 

Atiiel.  (aside).  Oh,  her  every  word  is  fresh  torture  to  my  heart. 


ACT  I. 


13 


Cath.  Wilt  listen  1 

Athel.  No;  1  know  the  story — she  was  betrothed  to  one  Richard,  of 
humble  birth,  when  King  Edgar  saw  and  loved  her,  and - 

Catii.  Yes  ;  and  as  knight,  and  baron,  even  as  earl,  did  she  reject 
him;  but  when  lie  told  her  that  he  was  king,  and  said  that  she  should 
share  his  throne — ah,  then  was  the  serf  dazzled,  and  she  became  his 
queen. 

Athel.  And  is  it  thus  that  ends  the  tale  of  Elfrida  the  Beautiful  1 

Cath.  Is  it  not  complete  ?  she  becomes  queen,  I  said. 

Athel.  But  what  of  Richard  1 

Cath.  Richard  1 

Athel.  Her  lover  ! 

Catii.  The  ballad  makes  no  further  mention  of  him. 

Athel.  So,  neither  in  the  verses  of  the  troubadour,  nor  in  the  soul  of 
his  mistress— a  thought  of  him  so  shamefully  cast  off.  I  shall  be  less  un¬ 
grateful  than  were  they,  for  I  will  drink  to  his  memory.  ( he  holds  the 
goblet  without  carrying  it  to  his  lips.') 

Catii.  ( looking  at  him).  Well ! 

Athel.  Do  you  forget?  have  I  ever  yet  drank  from  a  cup  that  your 
lips  have  not  previously  kissed — that  I  might  taste  upon  its  edge  the 
place  which  they  had  pressed.  Come,  my  fair  Elfrida — no,  pardon  me, 
1  mean,  my  Catherine — to  the  memory  of  Richard.  (Catherine  drinks — 
he  looks  on  her  greatly  agitated,  then  snatches  the  goblet  from  her  lips  and  casts 
it  at  his  feet,  exclaiming )  Oh  Kate  !  Kate  !  forgive  — oh,  forgive  me. 

Catii.  ( surprised ).  Forgive  you? 

Athel.  There  was  no  other  way —  it  was,  alas,  the  only  means. 

Cath.  What  mean  you  ? 

Athel.  Without  it,  we  had  been  lost — for  ever  separated.  Yrou  are 
pale,  Catherine. 

Catii.  Yes,  yes  !  what  can  this  mean  ?  I  am  faint — the  room  swims 
around  me — ah  !  I  am  turning  blind  ! 

Athel.  Oh,  Heaven! 

Catii.  My  breast  is  all  on  fire— my  forehead  burns!  oh,  surely  this  is 
death  1 

Athel.  Oh,  misery,  misery  !  to  see  her  suffer  thus.  Oh,  better  that  I 
had - 

Cath.  Leave  me— leave  me  !  water — water — I  choke  !  mercy  !  pity  me, 
Athel— Oh,  I  feel  that  I  am  dying.  Is  there  no  aid  ?  Ho  !  without !  help 
there — help ! 

Athel.  ( taking  her  in  his  arms).  No,  no  !  not  a  cry — not  a  sound - 

Cath.  ( patting  her  hands  to  her  head).  What  are  these  ?  flowers  !  jewels  ! 
{snatching  them  envoy)  Despair!  oh,  life,  Heaven — life! 

Athel.  You  will  not  die  ! 

Cath.  So  young,  so  young,  to  perish  !  oh,  Heaven,  have  pity  on  me. 
Kennedy,  Kennedy  !  1  can  see  nothing  !  1  am  dying,  {she  stmgglcs  in 

Athel  wold’s  arms,  repulses  him,  and  falls.) 

Athel  ( keeling  besides  her  and  raising  her  in  Ins  arms).  Oh,  Kate, 
Kate  !  now,  1  am  sure  that  we  shall  live  or  die  together. 

Embraces  her,  rises,  opens  r.  d.,  rings  bell  violently,  returns  to  Catherine, 
embraces  her,  and  rushes  off,  r.  c.,  as  Dame  Kennedy  enters  r.  d. — 
she  hurries  and  kneels  beside  Catherine — places  one  hand  on  Cathe¬ 
rine’s  heart ,  and,  weeping ,  hides  her  face  in  the  other.  Music. 


slow  curtain. 


14 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — Vault  of  Sepulture  in  4 th  grooves. — Steps  at  bach  up  to  door , 
it.  c.  of  F.  Several  tombs  with  statues  lying  on  them — l.,  well  forward , 
an  open  tomb,  raised ,  with  steps,  on  which  Catherine  Howard  is  lying. 
Lamp  on  a  tomb. 

Athelwold  discovered  standing  besides  Catherine. 

Athel.  Aye,  Fleming,  thou  hast,  indeed,  kept  faith  with  me.  Her 
sleep  is  twin-sister  to  death  itself,  and,  but  that  it  is  my  own  work,  I 
must  myself  have  been  deceived  by  the  resemblance.  Oh,  I  can  under¬ 
stand  how  an  assassin  may  not  feel  remorse  when  gazing  on  his  victim ; 
for  if  this  inanimate  body  be  not  happy,  at  least  ’tis  very  tranquil.  Oh, 
Catherine,  Catherine!  would  it  not  be  better  that  I  should  ca3t  myself 
beside  thee  in  this  tomb  and  suffer  them  firmly  to  enclose  us '?  that 
locked  together  in  each  other’s  arms  we  might  sleep  calmly  on  until 
the  day  of  everylasting  re-awakening  1  For  who  but  Heaven  can  say, 
whether  in  this  world  joy  or  calamity  is  in  store  for  us  ?  Who  but 
Heaven  knows  whether  hereafter,  thou  wilt  bfess  or  curse  me  for 
suffering  thee  again  to  live;  for  there  is  nothing  certain  in  the  future, 
save  the  grave ;  and  wherefore  should  we  wait  death’s  slow  approach, 
since  so  easily  we  can  reach  it.  Oh,  Kate  i  ( bends  over  her  an  l  k esses  her 
on  the  forehead)  Heavens  !  surely  her  frame  did  quiver  then  !  My  voice 
even  through  this  lethargy  has  penetrated  to  her  soul.  Oh!  Catherine, 
Catherine,  revive,  revive!  Hence  all  thought  of  death — live,  live! 
With  thee  happiness  or  woe-joy  or  despair!  Oil,  Heaven  !  yes,  live, 
Kate,  darling,  live  !  ( turning  towirds  door  at  bach,  r.  c.,  which  at  this  mo- 
ment  opens)  Ha!  who  cones  here  ?  Oh,  imprudence  !  Why  did  I  not 
secure  that  door  !  {ado  vices  towards  it,  then  retreats  terrified)  The  King — 
the  King  here  !  [returns  to  tomb  and  bends  over  Catherine)  Powers  of 
darkness,  weigh  her  eyelids  down  with  a  leaden  slumber;  rather  let  her 
never  awaken  than  awaken  now. 

Enter  Henry,  door  at  bach,  r.  o. 

Henry  (closing  door,  perplexed  by  the  darkness).  Athelwold,  where  art 
thou  1 

Athel.  ( going  towards  him).  Here,  sire,  here. 

Hen.  ( descending  steps,  an  l  laying  his  hand  on  Athelwold’s  arm).  You 
a  e,  indeed,  a  faithful  friend.  Where  is  she  ? 

Athel.  (  pointing  to  tomb).  There. 

Hen.  Thanks,  your  grace,  for  having  placed  her  in  your  family  vault ; 
a  week  later  and  she  should  have  slept  in  ours  of  Westminster. 

Athel.  Sire,  the  woman  on  whom,  during  her  life,  your  majesty  had 
desianed  to  cast  your  eves,  could  not  but  he  for  me,  even  after  her  death, 
an  object  of  respect  and  veneration.  But,  how  comes  it  that  your  ma¬ 
jesty  has  descended  here  alone  ] 

Hen.  I  desired  once  more  to  behold  her  ere  the  tomb  was  for  ever 
closed  upon  her.  When  those  of  my  palace  who  yesterday  accoinpaned 
you  returned,  and  told  me  that  you  had  found  her  dead,  and  that  you 
had  remained  to  render  her  the  last  rites — oh,  scarcely  could  I  credit  the 
afflicting  tidings;  my  eyes  filled  with  tears — my  heart  did  scarcely 
throb.  Oh,  I  loved  her,  1  loved  her,  and  must  behold  her  once  again.  ' 


ACT  II. 


15 


Athelworld  (haws  his  dagger ,  and  with  the  other  hand  raises  the  veil  which 
covers  Catherine,  and  taking  the  lamp ,  approaches  and  holds  it  over 
her.  on  her  l. 

Athel.  Then,  look  upon  her,  sire  ! 

Hen.  (regarding  her  fixedly ,  r.  c.).  Dead  !  dead  !  dead!  (raising  his  eyes 
to  heaven)  Have  1  offended  heaven  1  a  star  was  about  to  shed  its  lustre 
o’er  England,  and  o’er  England’s  king  ;  a  breeze  passes,  laden  with 
death,  and  it  is  extinguished.  Oh,  paltry  human  authority,  so  mighty 
to  destroy  life — so  utterly  powerless  to  restore  it.  (taking  her  r.  hand)  Oh, 
that  I  could  but  give  warmth  to  this  hand  which  1  now  press  within  mine 
own. 

Athel.  (aside,  touching  her  l.  hand).  I  permit  you,  king,  to  nold  that 
hand,  for  it  is  still  cold. 

Hen.  Catherine,  my  beautiful — my  affianced  !  (placing  ring  on  her  fin¬ 
ger)  Carry  with  thee  in  to  the  grave,  this  ring,  which  thou  shouldst  have 
worn,  upon  the  throne.  Oh,  how  royal  should  be  the  ransom  I  would 
pay,  could  I  restore  thee  again  to  life,  my  Catherine. 

Athel.  (aside).  Malediction  !  her  heart  renews  its  throbbings  ! 

Hen.  Oh,  Heaven  !  it  is  then  true  that  sovereign  and  subject  alike  ate 
equal  to  thee — and  that  a  king  within  his  palace  is  no  more  prized  by 
thee  than  a  poor  clown  within  his  sorry  hut.  Catherine,  Catherine  ! 

Atiiel.  (aside,  listening).  She  breathes!  Sire,  you  must  no  longer 
remain  ;  such  unholy  exclamations  are  a  profanation.  Come,  sire — 
come ! 

Hen.  No,  no — I  cannot — cannot  yet  quit  her  tomb. 

Athel.  (asides.  Damnation!  she  awakes!  (aloud)  Sire — sire!  suffer 
(he  dead  quietly  to  sleep  on  — or  tremble,  lest  they  rise  and  curse  you 
Tor  having  dared  to  trouble  their  last  rest !  (dragging  him  away)  Come 
— come ! 

He  drags  Henry  off,  who  exclaims ,  as  he  leaves  the  vault—11  Catherine,  oh, 
Catherine,  thou  bride  of  death !  farewell — farewell  for  ever!” — 
closing  door ,  r.  c.,  after  him — a  short  pause.  Music. 

Catii.  (raising  her  arm,  it  falls  again  to  her  side).  Oh,  Heaven!  how 
profound  is  my  sleep!  Meseems  that  I  am  fastened  to  this  bed — I  have 
no  power  to  raise  myself,  (rises  on  her  hands)  My  eyes  will  not  unclose  ! 
(pressing  her  hand  over  her  forehead)  There  is  a  weight  upon  my  brow. 
(touching  her  white  crown)  All.  I  have  slept  with  my  crown  on.  Dame  ! 
Dame  Kennedy  !  Still  night?  I  thought  it  had  been  daylight.  Iam 
very  cold — and  frightened  too  !  (descends  from  the  tomb,  and  almost  falls 
upon  the  steps)  Oh,  how  my  limbs  ache  !  steps  !  a  lamp  !  ( touches  monu¬ 
ment)  Marble  !  (rising  terrified)  A  tomb  !  (walking,  and  dragging  wrap¬ 
pings  with  her)  A  shroud  !  Oh,  great  Heaven!  wherb  am  II  In  a 
funeral  vault,  sun  minded  by  the  dead,  (shuddering)  Horror— horror  ! 
What  has  happened  to  me  ?  Let  me  reflect; — all  is  calm— all  tranquil 
here — why  then  should  I  fear  ?  Lnt  me  think — let  me  think!  Athel- 
vvold,  as  usual,  came  yesterday — or  the  day  before — for  l  no  longer 
know  the  days  ;  —then  I  experienced  frightful  torture* — believed  that  l 
should  die— then  my  senses  left  me — and — then — then— all!  (suddenly 
and  despairingly)  I  have  been  thought  dead— and  was  entombed  here- 
living — living — and  no  escape  !  This  door  !  (goes  to  door,  r.  c.,  up  the 
steps ,  puts  her  hand  upon  the  lock — the  key  is  not  there — she  tries  door)  Fast 
* — merciful  powers  !  (rapidly  descends  steps,  and  coming  hastily  forward, 
falls  on  her  knees,  c.)  Mercy,  Heaven,  mercy  !  (her  figure  droops,  and  she 
is  nearly  fainting. ) 


1G 


CA.THE1U.KE  UOWAKD. 


Athelwold  appears  at  uoor ,  r.  c.,  closes  it,  and  coming  forward,  proceeds 
direct  to  the  tomb — seeing  it  empty,  he  calls. 

Athel.  Kate  ! 

Catu.  ( rising  on  one  arm).  Did  I  not  hear  ray  name  ? 

Athel.  Catherine  ! 

Cath.  ( rising  at  a  bound).  Here — here  ! 

Athel.  Ah  !  ( darting  towards  her.) 

Cath.  Athelwold  !  I  am  saved !  Athelwold,  can  we  not  leave  this 

place  ? 

Athel.  Yes,  yes — but  not  till  1  have  held  you  to  my  heart,  that  I 
may  feel  assured  you  live — and  live  for  me  alone. 

Cath.  Yes,  yes — for  you  alone  !  but  let  us  go — let  us  go  ;  I  need  air  ! 
— air ! 

Athel.  Yet  a  moment— I  implore  you,  Catherine;  in  the  name  of 
our  love — which,  but  now  and  narrowly,  has  escaped  a  terrible  danger. 

Cath.  ( clinging  closer  to  him).  Yes,  yes,  ’tis  well,  but  tell  me— do  not 
quit  me — how  comes  it  that  1  was  here  amidst  these  tombs,  alone,  shut 
in — and  one  of  them  my  bed?  How  is  it  that  I  behold  you? — that  like 
my  guardian  angel  you  have  hastened  to  restore  me  to  life,  and  to  the 
light  of  day  'l  Speak— tell  me,  1  entreat  you  ! 

Atiiel.  Yes— for  the  moment  has  arrived  that  you  may  know  the 
secret  which  has  so  perplexed  you. 

Catii.  What,  shall  I  know  who  thou  really  art 

Athel.  Yes,  I  am  Athelwold,  Duke  of  Northumberland.  The  king 
alone  claims  rank  above  the  peers  of  England. 

Catii.  Ah  !  and  I — shall  share  honors,  fortune,  position,  with  you  ? 

Atiiel.  In  giving  you  my  heart,  did  1  not  bestow  all  these  upon  you 
—  am  I  not  ready  now  to  yield  to  you  my  life  ? 

Catii.  Then  you  will  conduct  me  to  the  court  ? 

Athel.  One  word. 

Catii.  Yes— say  on. 

Atiiel.  You  have  heard  of  King  Henry’s  amours,  always  dissolute — 
sometimes  fatall 

Cath.  Yes. 

Atiiel.  Well,  I  thought  of  him.  and  dared  not  introduce  you  at  his 
court — for  royalty  has  but  to  breathe  upon  the  honor  of  a  woman,  and 
it  is  tarnished.  Hence,  I  concealed  my  rank  from  you,  for  1  trembled 
lest  some  indiscretion  on  your  part  should  destroy  the  happiness  that 
depended  so  entirely  on  my  Catherine.  A  year  flew  thus — twelve 
months  of  felicity,  during  which  I  every  evening  came  to  you,  whilst 
every  day  I  was  compelled  by  my  position  to  be  near  the  king ;  and  the 
better  to  hide  my  secret,  there  I  feigned  that  my  ambitious  desires  weio 
for  the  Princess  Margaret. 

Catii.  The  king’s  sister  ? 

Atiiel.  Yes;  but  it  was  you  tvho  held  ray  heart — who  inspired  ray 
every  thought - 

Cath.  Yes,  ye3— 1  know  all  that;  but — but  you  have  not  yet  told  me, 
why - 

Atiiel.  Well,  all  that  I  feared  has  come  to  pass.  Four  days  ago,  the 
king  beheld  you - 

Cath.  The  king  has  seen  me — seen  me  ? 

Athel.  Yes. 

Catii.  And - 

Atiiel.  And  he  loves  you, 

Cath.  Loves  met  *  - 


ACT  II. 


17 


Athel.  Or  thinks  he  loves — he  desires  you.  Now  you  understand, 
from  that  moment,  unless  some  preventive  were  found,  we  both  were 
lost.  A  skillful  alchemist  furnished  me,  for  gold,  with  a  narcotic  liquid, 
whose  effect  is  rapid  and  profound — you  drank,  and  when  the  messen¬ 
gers  of  the  king  came  to  conduct  you  to  court,  they  found  your  nurse 
weeping  over  my  beautiful  Catherine,  who  was  but  sleeping — while  all 
believed  that  she  was  dead. 

Catii.  All! — the  king  also  1 

Athel.  Oh,  it  was  most  essential  that  he,  above  all,  should  so  believe. 

Cath.  And  even  now,  he  does  not  doubt  ? 

Athel.  No — for  that  which  might  have  destroyed,  has  saved  us. 

Cath.  What  mean  you  'l 

Athel.  While  T  stood  here,  beside  your  tomb,  awaiting  your  first 
breath, — your  first  sigh, — your  first  look — the  king,  suspicious,  no  doubt 
— appeared  at  yonder  door. 

Cath.  The  king ! 

Athel.  Descended  those  steps,  and  approached  this  tomb  where  I, 
steel  in  hand,  awaited  him — for,  by  the  rood,  had  he  shown  suspicion,  I 
would  have  slain  him. 

Cath.  My  lord — you  would  have  killed  your  king  7 

Athel.  Rather  than  have  lost  you,  by  Heaven — yes!  But  every¬ 
thing  aided  us — vainly  did  he  place  that  ring  upon  your  finger - 

Cath.  (aside,  looking  at  it).  A  ring  of  betrothal! 

Athel.  Your  hand  remained  frozen  within  his  own.  Vainly  did  he 
call  upon  your  name,  you  waked  not— you  did  not  answer  the  fatal  ap¬ 
peal — his  adul  ero  is  lips  were  vainly  pressed  upon  your  brow, .for  that 
brow  continued  pale,  and  still  is  pure  — so  that  now  he  cannot  doubt — can 
ne’er  suspect,  that  you  are  still  the  prey  of  death,  and  of  the  tomb. 

Cath.  Oh.  but  think — had  that  beverage  proved  mortal — if  instead  of 
a  mere  narcotic,  that  man  had  given  thee  a  poison  1 

Athel.  I  had  foreseen  all  that  - 

Cath.  And - 

Athel.  And  gave  thee  but  half  the  vial’s  contents. 

Cath.  Natheless, ’tis  most  frightful.  Living — living!  and  yet  thought 
dead  by  all  the  world. 

Athel.  Ah,  dear  Kale,  forget  the  world  that  you  have  quitted,  as 
already  it  hath  forgotten  thee.  At  the  earliest  possible  moment  I  will 
quit  England— conduct  thee  to  France — there  we  shall  find  a  court 
far  more  magnificent — more  mirthful  than  Henry’s.  My  fortune,  too, 
and  my  title  will  be  thine— homage  and  pleasure  will  surround  thee; 
and  then  thou  wilt  confess  that  1  have  acted  well — that  thou  art  happy, 
happy,  happy  ! 

Catii.  Yes — but  until  then  we  shall  dwell  far  from  London  ? 

Athel.  0  i,  no — close  by. 

Cath.  And  should  I  be  seen - • 

Atael  Oh,  you  will  conceal  yourself  from  every  eye. 

Cath.  (aside).  And  so  have  but  exchanged  my  tomb. 

Athel.  Catherine,  now  that  you  know  all — and  the  king  and  his  train 
have  departed,  let  us  quit  this  vault. 

Cath.  Already  ! 

Athel.  Come. 

Cath.  First,  be  sure  that  no  one  will  perceive  us-—that  all  is  quiet — 
and  the  night  fallen  dark. 

Athel.  But  you - - 

Catii.  Will  remain  an  instant  here— I  am  frightened  now. 

Athel. ^  ’Tis  well.  I  go.  [Exit,  at  door,  r.  c. 

Cath.  ’Tis  very  strange  !  but  all  seems  changed  to  me  since  Athel- 


18 


CA.THKK1.XE  HOWARD. 


wald’s  revelation.  Henry  the  Eighth  loves  me  !  The  Tudor  has  de¬ 
scended  into  this  vault  once  more  to  behold  the  humble  Howard. 
How  was’t  I  did  not  suddenly  awaken  at  the  echo  of  his  steps — Lhe 
sound  of  his  voice  1  His  feet  were,  may  be,  placed  upon  this  spot  where 
now  1  stand — here  towards  me  he  has  bowed  the  head  that  bears  a 
crown— here  he  has  placed  his  royal  hands ;  here  is  the  ring — the  be¬ 
trothal  ring  which  he  has  slipped  upon  my  finger  !  Oh,  there  cannot  be 
a  doubt  he  loves  me  truly,  ardently — and  does  he  believe  me  dead  ? 
{leans  her  head  against  the  tomb.) 

Enter  Athelwold,  door ,  r.  C. 

Athel.  ( at  door).  Kate  ! 

Cat ii.  (rising).  Ah  ! 

Athel.  Come,  Kate  !  all  is  quiet — let  us  leave  this  funeral  vault. 

Cath.  (going  to  him ,  aside),  i  fear,  Athelwold,  thy  mogt  sumptuous 
mansion  will  never  so  greatly  charm  me  as  this  gloomy  vault,  bright¬ 
ened  by  the  presence  of  the  king,  (with  her  foot  on  the  bottom  step ,  she 
turns  and  looks  towards  tomb — Athelwold  at  door.) 

Scene  closes  in. 

SCENE  II.— A  Street. 

Enter  Martin  Krinkly  and  Simon  Kreetnur,  l. 

Khink.'  I  consider  myself  a  man  j  ay,  and  by  the  king’s  beard,  as 
good  a  man  as  he. 

Simon.  Don’t  talk  treason,  Martin. 

Krink.  What  1  is  it  treason  to  be  a  man  1  then  have  our  liberties 
come  to  a  pretty  pass.  As  well  say  ’ tis  treason  to  be  married. 

Simon.  No,  certainly,  that  is  not  treason,  yet  ’tis  not  reason  ! 

Krink.  You  are  right — there  is  no  reason  in  it,  ’tis  very  stupid,  Simon, 
If  to  be  man — a  superior  specimen  of  human  nature,  a  householder  to 
pay  taxes — if  all  this  be  treason,  then  denounce  me  to  Royal  Harry,  for 
1  am  a  traitor. 

Simon.  Well,  no,  but  you  talk - 

Krink.  Of  course  I  do,  for  I  have  the  organ  of  speech— a  mouth 
organ— do  you  mark  me  1 

Simon.  But  you  talk  in  a  way — ■— 

Krink.  Well,  it's  my  way  ;  and  I  say  here,  before  everybody — — 

Simon.  There  is  nobody  but  me 

Krink.  And  you  are  nobody,  so  I  shall  postpone  my  burst  of  elo¬ 
quence  till  I  get  a  better  audience. 

Simon.  You  cause  a  riot  in  every  tavern  that  we  enter. 

Krink.  Then  you  should  not  lead  me  into  such  dens  of  iniquity. 

Simon.  1 1 

Krink.  Certainly !  the  jingle  of  coin  is  never  heard  in  my  pouch,  and 
if  you  were  not  so  infamous  as  to  pay  for  the  spiced  sack  that  I  imbibe, 
I  should  be  too  virtuous  ever  to  enter  a  tavern. 

Simon.  There’s  gratitude  !  ’tis  I  that  would  avoid  every  hostelry,  but 
you  force  every  stiver  from  my  pocket. 

Krink.  And  is  it  not  a  horrible  country,  Simon,  where  a  man  has  to 
pav  for  another’s  luxuries,  whether  he  likes  it  or  not  ? 

Simon.  You  should  have  a  private  purse,  Martin. 

Krink.  Impossible! 

Simon.  Why  so  ? 


ACT  II. 


19 


Krink.  Because  I  am  married,  Simon  ;  and  there  is  another  instance 
of  frightful  tryanny.  I  am  never  allowed  a  coin.  Is  it  not  atrocious 
that  a  man — I  may,  without  vanity,  say  a  fine  man— should  be  the  slave 
of  a  woman,  and  that  woman,  too,  his  wife  I 

Simon.  1  know  she  governs  you. 

Krink.  She  does ;  and  never  blushes  at  her  abominable  delinquency. 
Talk  of  liberty  !  where,  in  England,  is  one  to  look  for  the  commodity, 
when  even  one's  wife  is  allowed  to  gallop  rough-shod  over  her  husband’s 
rights.  Harry  the  Eighth’s  government  is  hoirible  to  endure — but  petti¬ 
coat  government — oh,  that  is  something  awful. 

Simon.  What  nonsense  you  do  talk. 

Krink.  Nonsense!  depend  upon  it,  Simon,  there  will  be  no  liberty  in 
this  country  till  every  woman  is  made  a  prisoner  for  life.  Where  is  our 
freedom — whe  the  liberty  of  the  subject  1  when,  at  this  very  moment,  I, 
with  the  coinage  of  a  lion,  am  trembling  lest  my  spouse,  Winifred 
Krinkly,  should  suddenly  pounce  upon  me. 


Winifred  enters ,  l. — Krinkly  goes  over  to  r. 

Winif.  And  no  wonder,  lazy  ale-bibber  that  thou  art.  Thy  business 
is  going  to  rack  and  ruin. 

Krink.  I  have  no  time  to  attend  to  business — I  am  engaged  in  the 
pursuit  of  liberty. 

Winif.  ( crossing  c.)-  Yes,  liberty  to  lounge  about  the  streets  talking 
rubbish,  and  haunt  taverns,  {advancing)  Listen  to  me,  Master  Martin, 
or - 

Krink.  ( retreating ).  Beware  what  you  do — I  am  a  man — I  pay  taxes. 

Winif.  Dost  thou  ?  not  lately  then,  for  the  collector  has  just  called 
for  the  arrears,  and  was  about  to  take  possession  of  our  chattels. 

Krink.  Simon,  you  hear  that — more  tryanny. 

Winif.  And  the  vintner  who  was  besotted  enough  to  give  thee  credit, 
has  threatened  law. 

Krink.  He  has?  bloated  tyrant!  take  my  word  for  it,  Simon,  there 
can  be  no  hope  of  liberty  in  this  country  so  long  as  a  man  is  compelled 
to  pay  his  debts. 

Winif.  And  thou,  Master  Kreetnur,  why  dost  thou  entice  my  husband 
from  his  dwelling,  and  trot  at  his  heels  like  a  spaniel  dog? 

Krink.  (k.).  Simon,  remember  you  aie  a  man. 

Winif.  Silence  ! 

Krink.  (aside).  Disgusting  tyranny  ! 

Simon,  (l.).  He  seeks  me  out,  Mistress  Winifred — he  clings  to  me. 

Winif.  I  shall,  in  future,  endeavor  to  keep  him  from  thee. 

Krink.  And  this  is  the  land  of  liberty,  where  you  may  not  have  a 
friend — must  basely  desert  the  man  who  has  money  to  discharge  on  ale¬ 
house  reckoning. 

Simon.  He  talks  treasons,  and  brings  me  into  danger,  for  when  people 
threaten  to  call  the  guard,  he  always  swears  ’twas  I  who  spoke. 

Winif.  Shameful,  Martin,  shameful 

Krink.  lean  no  longer  doubt  ii — liberty  is  extinct — for  cow  a  man 
is  not  allowed  to  sacrifice  his  fine  id  to  save  himself. 

Winif.  Get  to  thy  home,  Simon  Kreetnur. 

Simon.  Gladly.  ( crossing ,  h).  For  my  loom  is  idle,  and  my  pockets 
empty. 

Krink.  (c  ,  aside).  And  I  shall  need  more  spiced  ale. 

Winif.  (l.).  And  thou,  Martin,  come  with  me. 

Krink.  Winifred  Krinkly,  I  am  a  man  — I  pay  taxes.  Simon  Kreetnur, 


20 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


liberty  is  a  precious  prerogative — therefore  resolve,  as  I  do,  to  maintain 
your  rights,  and  never  to  yield  to  any  tyrant  breathing. 

Winif.  {with  authority).  Are  you  coming,  Martini 
Krink.  {humbly).  Certainly,  my  'love. 

[Martin  follows  Winifred  off,  l. — Exit  Simon,  r. 

Scene  changes  to 

SCENE  III. — Chamber  in  3rd  grooves ,  handsomely  furnished— door  covered 
with  tapesty ,  r. — window  c- — door,  l.  of  flat. 

Catherine  enters ,  r.  d  ,  goes  to  Athelwold,  discovered  seated  on  a  sofa, 

C.,  and  gives  him  her  hand. 


Cath.  My  lord  ! 

Athel.  Ah,  ’tis  you  !  my  heart  welcomes  you !  And  how  did  you 
sleep  last  night  in  your  new  dwelling  ? 

Cath.  I  did  not  sleep  an  instant. 

Athel.  And  yet  your  eyes  are  brilliant — your  complexion  rose-like, 
as  if  sleep  bad  shaken  over  you  all  her  nightly  flowers. 

Catii.  Waking  hours  have,  sometimes,  dreams  as  sweet  as  those 
which  follow  us  to  our  si  >ep.  Happiness  and  Hope  can  also  freshen  the 
complexion,  and  make  the  eye  sparkle. 

Athel.  So,  you’re  happy  ? 

Cath.  Surely,  since  you  have  promised  mo  that  we  shall  not  leave 
England.  ( sits  by  his  L.  side.) 

Atiiel.  But  if  we  quit  not  England,  my  beautiful  duchess,  you  will 
be  compelled  to  renounce  that  title — to  forego  the  pleasures  of  the 
Court  of  France — the  joy  of  hearing  tweotj7  times  a  day  that  your  are 
fair. 

Cath.  You  will  tell  me  so— will  you  not? 

Athel.  My  darling  Kate! 

Cath.  But  prithee,  why  have  you  lodged  me  in  the  most  remote  cham¬ 
bers  of  this  mansion  1  the  view,  (Rethinks,  from  this  apartment  is  far 
more  beautiful,  and  during  you-r  absence — for  you  have  said  that  occa¬ 
sionally  you  must  leave,  to  attend  the  court — I  should  find  pleasure  in 
gazing  from  this  window. 

Athel.  Catherine,  this  chamber  has  always  been  mine  own — to  change 
would  be  to  arouse  suspicion.  All  who  seek  me  come  to  this  apartment. 
You  see;  hence,  that  I  have  foreseen  everything,  and  how  impossible  it 
is  that  1  should  grant  what  now  you  ask. 

Cath.  But  1  may  sometimes  approach  this  window  to  watch  for  your  re- 
turq— to  wave  my  handkerchief,  and  say  by  signs,  that  which  you  would 
not  have  uttered  from  my  lips,  “  Come  quickly,  for  I  love  thee — 1  think 
of,  and  expect  thee  !  ’’ 

Athel.  Is  not  the  entire  mansion  thine  own,  love  ?  Yes  !  come  hither 
— but  never  without  the  greatest  caution,  never  without  closing,  as  I  do 
now,  this  doom  {secures  d.  l.  c.) 

Cath.  Tell  me — is  it  London  that  we  behold  from  this  casement  1 

Athel.  Yes. 

Catii.  And  the  palace  of  Whitehall!  cannot  that  be  distinguished? 

Atiiel.  Aye,  {pointing,  r.)  ’tis  there. 

Cath.  It  was  to  that  palace,  that,  when  raised  to  the  throne,  Anne 
Boleyn  was  conducted  'l 

Athel.  Yes  ! 

Catii.  Tell  me,  is  it  true  that  when  she  left  her  splendid  barge  upon 
the  Thames,  and  placed  her  foot  on  shore,  the  queenly  robe  was  thrown 


ACT  IT. 


21 


across  her  shoulders — that  the  white  satin  litter  in  which  she  was  borne, 
and  on  all  sides  open,  that  the  people  might  gaze  on  her  who  was  to  reign 
over  them.  It  was  Nurse  Kennedy  who  related  this  to  me. 

Cath.  She  told  you  truly. 

Cath.  Ambassadors  and  noblemen,  will)  a  hundred  gentleman  mounted 
on  splendid  steeds,  accompanied  her.  ( observing  Athelwold’s  fixed 
looked  of  astonishment').  Is  it  not  true  that,  thus  splendidly  attired,  and 
with  that  brilliant  train,  Anne  Boleyn  arrived  at  Whitehall,  to  join  the 
monarch  who  there  most  eagerly  awaited  her  I 

Athel.  And  three  years  after,  she  left  Whitehall,  clothed  in  black, 
and,  accompanied  but  by  a  single  priest,  repaired  to  the  Tower,  where 
the  headsman  awaited  her. 

Cath.  Bhe  merited  her  fate,  for  she  deceived  the  king. 

Atiiel.  You  are  admirably  informed  in  all  these  matters,  my  sweet 
historian— it  is  a  new  accomplishment,  for  which  I  have  never  given  you 
credit,  (raises  her  hand  to  kiss  it — his  lips  touch  the  ring  that  the  Kino  has 
put  upon  her  finger — he  starts. ) 

Cath.  Why  do  you  start  ? 

Athel.  ’Tis  nothing. 

Cath.  But  tell  me. 

Athel.  I  dare  not. 

Cath.  Oh,  yes. 

Athel.  What  if  if  is  a  sacrifice  that  I  would  ask  of  you? 

Cath.  Speak,  nevertheless  ;  and  we  will  see  if  we  love  you  sufficient¬ 
ly  to  make  that  sacrifice. 

Athel.  That  ring ! 

Cath.  Well - 

Athel.  My  lips  encountered  it  but  now,  on  kissing  your  hand,  and 
it  was  given  you  uot  by  me,  but  by  another.  Are  you  anxious  to  retain 
that  ring  1 

Cath.  ( holding  it  up).  Do  you  not  think  that  it  becomes  my  hand— 
that  it  is  a  foil  to  its  whiteness  ! 

Athel.  But,  dear  love,  thy  hand  is  sufficiently  white — sufficiently 
beautiful  without  it — so  let  me  have  it? 

Cath.  A  ring  given  by  a  king  is  rare  and  curious,  and  surely  worth 
preserving. 

Athel.  Yes,  but  when  that  king  has  given  it  as  a  token  of  love - 

Cath.  Art  jealous? 

Athel.  Yes,  Kate,  I  confess  I  am  jealous.  I  should  be  jealous  even 
of  him  whom  thy  robe  had  touched  in  passing.  Oh,  Catherine,  Cathe¬ 
rine.  (throwing  h  mself  at  her  feet)  pity  me,  for  I  am  mad  with  love  for 
thee.  Thou  wilt  have  mercy  on  me,  and  wilt  not,  by  retaining  that  ring, 
crush  my  heart ! 

Cath.  ( rising ,  and  looking  from  window).  Athehvold,  look  ;  do  you  not 
behold  a  troop  of  horse  approaching  yonder,  on  the  London  Road  ?  Lo  ! 
they  wind  their  way  towards  this  mansion,  (pointing  offt  but  not  leaving 
the  sofa.) 

Athel.  (bending  out  of  the  window).  Yes — who  are  these  men — and 
what  their  errand  1 

Cath.  (aside).  He  will  forget  the  ring  ! 

Athel.  Heavens  !  I  cannot  be  mistaken! — ’tis,  he — what  would  he 
now ! 

Cath.  He  ?  whom  ? 

Athel.  Harry  of  England  ? 

Cath.  (advancing  hastily  towards  window).  The  King  ! 

Athel.  (restraining  her)  Yes,  yes,  the  King  !  (drawing  her  back)  Fly 
thi!»  instant,  Catherine — return  to  your  own  apartments,  I  implore  you; 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


22 


and  in  the  name  of  Heaven — in  the  name  of  our  love — of  my  life— Oh, 
conceal  my  treasure  from  every  eye.  ( suddenly  stopping ,  as  a  trumpet 
sounds  without )  Do  you  not  hear  his  trumpet  ?  he  is  there — even  now  at 
yonder  door— away,  away  !  ( hurries  her  off ‘  r.  d. — draws  the  tapestry  over 
the  door  by  which  she  goes.) 

Atuel.  Why  comes  lie  here?  has  he  learned  that  I  have  deceived 
him  1  ( goes  to  and  opens  d.  l.  cj  Yet,  no,  no,  for,  then - 

Enter  Page,  l.  c. 

Page  ( announcing ).  His  Majesty  the  King  !  [Exit,  l.  c. 

Enter  Henry,  d.  l.  c. 


Athel.  {bowing).  Sire - 

Hen.  Good-morning,  vour  grace. 

Atiiel.  This  honor,  sire - 

Hen.  1  must  e’en  seek  you,  Athelwold,  in  your  own  mansion,  since 
you  will  not  visit  me  in  my  palace  ! 

Athel.  Your  majesty  had  but  to  express  the  wish,  and - 

Hen.  Yes,  yes,  1  know — but  1  had  need  to  converse  with  you,  and  in¬ 
stantly.  of  important  matters,  and  the  walls  of  my  palace  have  ears  ; 
so  I  preferred  to  come  heie  and  speak,  surrounded  but  by  this  old  tapes¬ 
try.  (Catherine  is  seen  to  raise  the  tapestry  of  her  door ,  r.,  and  listen  for 
a  short  time.) 

Athel.  Thanks!  (Henry  sifs  om  the  sofa — Athelwold  remains  stand¬ 
ing,  r  )  And  now,  Athelwold,  hearken  to  me.  For  the  last  year  you 
have  1  kuow,  been  dreaming  of  an  honor  you  thought  unattainable. 

Athel.  I,  sire  ! 

Hen.  Your  lips,  ’t is  true,  have  not  given  utterance  to  a  word  that 
could  betray  your  secret,  but  your  eyes  have  revealed  it  to  all  who 
would  give  themselves  the  trouble  to  observe.  My  lord,  brief,  you  love 
rny  sister. 

Athel.  Sire! 

Hen.  Yesterday  I  questioned  the  Princess  Margaret,  and  learned  her 
sentiments  respecting  you. 

Athel.  And  she  does  not  love  me  ! 

Hen.  She  does  love  von. 

Atuel  Heavens! 

Hen.  This  time,  for  once,  my  heart  and  my  politics  can  agree,  {ex¬ 
tending  his  hand  te  Athelwold).  You  will  be  happy,  Athelwold,  and  youi 
happiness  wili  ensure  my  tranquillity,  for  when  I  depart  to  Scotland  I 
shall  leave  for  regent  of  my  kingdom  more  than  a  friend; — a  brother  ! — - 
1  shall  go  without  fear,  since,  should  misfortune  happen  to  me,  the  law 
— in  consequence  of  the  illegitimate  birth  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth,  and 
the  poor  health  of  Prince  Edward — has  empowered  me  to  name  a  suc¬ 
cession  to  rny  throne,  ( rising )  therefore,  brother ,  I  shall  leave  with  thee 
a  testament,  of  which  my  keeper-of-lhe-seals  will  bold  a  duplicate,  ap¬ 
pointing  you  Regent  in  my  absence  ;  King,  on  my  death. 

Athel.  Sire ! 

Hen.  Well! 

Athel.  Oh,  I  am  unworthy  of  such  favor. 

Hen  Wherefore? 

Athel.  I  can  accept  nothing  of  all  that  your  majesty  has  offered. 

Hen.  Ah  !  what  means  your  grace  ?  methinks  that  you  are  distraught ! 

Athel.  Sire  !  1  can  understand  why  you  should  deem  me  so — or  most 
ungrateful;  but,  si.e,  I  cannot  accept - 


ACT  II. 


no 


Hen.  ( threatingly ).  My  lord,  you  will. 

Athel.  ( raising  his  head).  1  have  refected,  sire. 

Hen.  You  refuse  the  regency  1 

Athel.  I  am  grateful  for  the  honor,  sire,  but - 

Hen  You  decline  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Margaret  7 

Athel  L  know  how  little  I  have  expected  the  offer  of  such  an  alli¬ 
ance,  therefore  I  but  render  justice  to  myself  in  confessing  that  I  am 
unworthy  of  it. 

Hen.  Do  you  forget  that  under  the  friend  is  the  king — that  entreaty 
may  be  followed  by  command. 

Athel.  Sire — in  the  name  of  all  you  hold  most  dear — have  grace  !  — 
save  me  from  my  threatened  destiny.  Your  entreaty  has  made  of  me 
an  ingrate— your  command  would  make  of  me  a  rebel. 

Hen.  I  am  curious  to  see  such  boldness  !  {smiles.) 

Athel.  {advancing ,  to  take  his  hand)  Oh,  I  implore  your  majesty. 

Hen.  {repulsing  him).  Back  my,  lord — back  ! 

Athel.  {placing  his  hand  on  his  sword).  Sire  ! 

Hen.  Beware,  my  lord — beware!  you  have  laid  your  hand  upon  your 
sword  in  presence  of  your  king—  that  is  high  treason,  my  lord. 

Athel.  Oh,  Heaven,  teach  me  how  to  act. 

Hen.  Fortunes  more  brilliant  than  your  grace’s  have  shone  around 
our  throne — but  on  one  breath  of  ours  they  have  died  extinct. 

Athel.  I  know  it. 

Hen.  You  now  are  rich  and  powerful,  but  1  could  snatch  from  you, 
shred  by  shred,  your  titles  and  your  fortune,  and  cast  you  forth  to  storm 
and  tempest  more  poor  and  naked  than  the  meanest  mendicant  who 
crawls  before  my  palace  gates. 

Athel.  You  could. 

Hen.  I  could  drag  you  before  the  peers  and  charge  you  with  high 
treason  for  the  crime  which  you  have  just  committed. 

Athel.  I  should  not  deny  it. 

Hen.  I  could  drag  you  to  the  scaffold. 

Atiiel.  I  should  not  fear  to  climb  its  steps  ! 

Hen.  This  is  too  much,  my  lord  ;  and  we  shall  see  who  first  will  yield. 
{going — Athelwold  is  following)  Remain! 

Athel  Sire,  you  are  now  within  my  mansion — I  am,  till  declared 
otherwise  by  my  peers,  still  a  loyal  subject  it  is  my  duty,  therefore,  to 
attend  your  majesty  to  the  entrance  gate  and  bend  my  knee,  that  you 
may  mount  your  steed. 

Hen.  Come  then,  my  lord  ;  but,  by  our  royal  word,  it  is  the  last  time 
such  honor  shall  be  accorded  to  you.  [ Exeunt ,  d.  l.  c. 

Cath.  {comes  forward  slowly).  He  is  very  handsome.  So  that’s  the 
king,  who  descended  to  lfiv  tomb  to  place  this  ring  upon  my  finger,  and 
would  have  placed  a  crown  upon  my  head.  How  great  and  powerful 
he  appears  amidst  the  courtiers  who  surround  him  —  {at  window)  Behold 
them  bare-headed  and  bowing  lowly  where  he  alone  is  covered  and  bears 
head  erect — what  is’t  1  see  ?  Athelwold  leading  to  him  the  horse,  and 
holding  for  him  the  stirrup,  that  the  king  may  tread  upon  him  in  rising 
to  the  saddle — what  degradation  !  and  Athelwold  is  noble  too — my  hus¬ 
band!  Oh, ’tis  most  humiliating!  Go,  mighty  king,  the  lower  thou 
shalt  tread  men  beneath  thy  feet,  the  greater  wilt  thou  be,  and  the  more 
envied  that  woman  whom  thou  shalt  place  beside  thee  on  thy  throne. 
Should  I  become  a  widow - 

Enter  Athelwold,  d.  l.  c  ,  pale  and  agitated. 


Atiiel.  Kate  ! 


24 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


\ 


Cath.  ( following  Henry  with  her  eyes).  I  atn  here. 

Athel.  ’Tis  well — hasten,  a  pen  and  parchment,  instantly. 

Cath.  What  would  you  do  '? 

Athel.  {sitting  at  table  and  writing).  Where  were  you  whilst  the  king 
was  here  ? 

Cath.  Behind  yon  tapestry. 

Athel.  {still  writing).  Ah  !  then  you’ve  heard - 

Cath.  Every  word  ! 

Athel.  You  heard,  my  wealth  is  confiscated  ? 

Cath.  Yes. 

Athel.  That  even  my  life  is  menaced  ? 

Cath.  Yes,  yes,  but  the  king  will  be  softened. 

Athel.  ( rising ,  and  looking  at  her).  And  you  know  for  whom  I  thus 
lose  all  ? 

Cath.  {throwing  herself  into  his  arms).  Oh,  yes,  yes. 

Athel.  Well,  the  moment  I  have  expected  has  now  arrived. 

Catii.  What  mean  you  ? 

Athel.  When  you  recovered  from  your  lethargy  I  showed  you  this 
vial,  still  half  full  of  the  narcotic  liquid. 

Cath.  Oh,  Heaven  ! 

Atiiel.  Catherine,  my  beloved,  ’tis  now  my  turn  to  do  that  for  your 
happiness  which  1  caused  you  to  perform  for  mine.  I  must  now  descend 
as  you  did,  into  the  crypt — die  to  the  world  that  I  may  live  again  for 
only  you.  [drinks.) 

Catii  Oh,  no,  no  !  you  mint  not. 

Athel.  {showing  the  vial  empty).  Behold! 

Cath.  Empty  ! — Mercy — 1  will  call  for  aid. 

Athel.  Silence  !  and  remember  that  we  must  not  lose  a  moment— 
for  moments  are  numbered  to  me  now,  and  there  are  a  thousand  things 
that  I  would  say  to  thee. 

Catii.  Athelwold  !  Athelwohl  !  Oh,  Heaven  !  how  pale  he  is,  already. 

Athel.  Catherine,  this  parchment — it  will  be  found  about  me  will 
indicate  that,  fearing  Henry’s  anger,  and  wishing  to  escape  the  block,  [ 
have  taken  poison.  The  motive  will  appear  sufficient,  and  no  one  will 
suspect  that  my  death  is  feigned. 

Catii.  Athelwold  !  Athelwold  !  this  is  tempting  Providence. 

Atiiel.  It  has  restored  to  me  a  more  precious  treasure,  which  I  con¬ 
fided  to  its  care.  Listen!  I  am  the  last  of  my  line;  I  dead,  my  name 
would  be  extinct,  and  my  wealth  would  go  unto  the  crown.  Oh,  be  not 
alarmed,  I  shall  still  have  gold  enough  for  splendor  in  a  foreign  land. 

Cath.  {thoughtful).  What  say  you  ? 

Atiiel.  That,  by  all  but  thee,  I  speedily  shall  be  forgotten  ;  thou 
alone  wilt  think  of  me  when  I’m  enclosed  within  that  tomb,  of  which 
there  are  but  two  keys  that  can  unlock  the  door. 

Catii.  Two  I 

Athel.  Yes;  one  of  those  keys  must  be  given  to  my  heir,  my  king. 

Catii.  And  the  other'? 

Athel.  {placing  key  in  her  hand).  To  thee,  my  wife. 

Cath.  No,  no  !  retain  that  key,  and  when  you  shall  awake,  you  can 
yourself  employ  it. 

Athel.  And,  who  will  place  it  near  me  ?  have  you  forgotten  that  you 
may  not  yourself  attend  me  to  the  tomb? 

Catii.  {taking  the  key).  Ah,  true  ! 

Atiiel.  {falling  on  his  knee).  And  now,  dearest,  while  still  I’ve  power 
to  gaze — let  me  read  in  your  eyes  that  I  shall  awake  to  love  and  happi¬ 
ness  !  (Catherine  sinks  on  the  couch)  while  I  can  listen,  let  me  lie.  r  your 
sweet  voice  murmur  words  of  tenderness  in  my  ear;  and  let  its  melodn 


ACT  III. 


25 


ous  accents  penetrate  to  my  soul,  even  while  I  sleep,  for  you  will  he  be¬ 
side  my  tomb,  will  you  not?  oh,  yes,  yes,  you  will  be  there,  watching  my 
return  to  life — your  eyes  fixed  on  mime,  your  hand  placed  upon  my 
heart.  ( taking  her  hand— he  starts )  Ah,  that  ring — again  that  ring  !  Oh, 
let  me  have  it,  Kate ! 

Cath.  {giving  it  to  him').  There. 

Athkl.  Oh,  how  happy  am  I  in  thy  love.  Oh,  speak  tome, — say  that 
you  are  mine,  only  mine ,  that  I  am  dear  to  thee. 

Cath.  Athelwold — my  husband  !  (aside)  I  know  not  what  to  say  to 
him.  (embraces  him  convulsivdy.) 

Athel.  (rising).  Oh,  embrace  me  not  thus,  thou  mak’st  it  terrible  to 
quit  thee  even  for  an  hour — thy  breath  is  of  fire,  it  burns  my  blood — 
air — air  1  I  stifle;  Catherine!  (he  Jails)  Catherine! 

Cath.  (on  one  knee — reusing  his  head  on  the  other).  Oh,  heaven  !  Oh, 
heaven  ! 

&THEL.  I  no  longer  see,  or  hear  thee — thy.  hand,  (foicibly  pressing  it) 
where  is  thy  hand  7  Oh,  Catherine,  my  life!  my  soul — to-morrow!  to¬ 
morrow  1 

Athelwald’s  head  slides  from  Catherine’s  knee  and  on  to  ground,  Cath¬ 
erine  contemplates  him  for  an  instant  as  he  lies  before  her ,  then,  her 
lips  trembling ,  but  without  speaking ,  she  places  her  hand  upon  his  heart 
and,  feeling  that  it  has  ceased  to  beat,  she,  still  on  one  knee  behind  the 
body,  draws  the  royal  ring  from  his  finger  and  passes  it  on  her  own — - 
and,  looks  to  window  —  this  is  done  in  silence,  and  without  tnusic- 

SLOW  CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I. — The  Throne  Room  of  tJie  Ralace  as  in  Act  I.,  Scene  I — throne 
on  steps,  c. — folding  doors,  R.  C. ,  L.  1  E.,  and  R.  1  E. — a  small  door,  L, 
c.  (the  door  opening  towards  r.) — (2d  grooves.) 

Henry  discovered  seated ,  Princess  Margaret  kneeling  at  his  feet,  her 

head  bowed  on  his  knees. 

Princess.  Oh,  sire!  brother!  suffer  tne  to  weep  before  you,  for  you 
alone  know  why  I  weep. 

Hen.  Courage,  girl,  courage. 

Prin.  (sti  l  kneeling) .  Oh,  my  brother,  yours  is  the  greatest  loss,  for 
of  all  the  flattering  courtiers  by  whom  you  are  surrounded,  be  was  the 
only  man  who  really  cared  for  you. 

Hen.  1  know  it. 

Prin.  He  was  the  most  noble  amongst  all  nobility ;  the  bravest  of 
the  brave. 

Hen.  True,  true ! 

Prin.  And  yet  you  menaced  him,  my  brother — ’twas  you  who  drove 
him  to  that  dread  extremity — -’tis  you  who  are  the  cause  of  that. 

Hen.  Oh,  silence,  silence!  The  wealth  of  kingdoms  would  I  give  if  I 
co  'ld  but  racall  the  threats  I  uttered. 

Prin.  Too  late  now,  brother,  too  late — for  he  is  dead. 

Hen.  You  are  young,  and  will  yet  wed  happily,  Margaret,  for  you  can 
choose  amongst  the  noblest  of  our  land. 

Prin  No;  the  heart  which  has  loved  Athelwold,  henceforth  can  wor- 


26 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


ship  only  Heaven ;  anti  of  all  tlie  world  can  offer  I  ask  but  this — {aside, 
producing  keg) — the  key  which  unlocks  the  vault  where  he  lies  buried. 
(aside)  Farewell,  Harry,  farewell. 

Hen.  My  heart,  too,  is  now  bereft  of  all  it  loved.  Oh,  Catherine  l 
Catherine  ! 

Enter  Page,  d.  l.  1  k. 

Page.  Sire,  a  young  lady  who  comes,  she  says,  from  the  neighborhood 
of  Richmond,  is  in  the  adjoining  chamber,  and  most  earnestly  solicits  an 
interview  with  your  Majesty. 

Hex.  Oil,  ’twas  near  Richmond  that  Catherine  resided.  Bid  the  lady 
approach.  [Exit  Page,  d.  l.  1  e. 

Some  companion,  some  one  who  knew  her,  and  who  now  about  to  wed, 
peradventure,  comes  to  ask  a  dowry  at  my  hands. 

Catherine  appears  at  d.  l.  I  b.,  closely  veiled. 

Hen.  What  would  you,  young  lady  ?  (Catherine  advmces  slowly  to  the 
king ,  kneels,  and  presents  the '  ring  that  he  has  given  her)  The  ring  !  who, 
then,  are  you  ?  ( he  hastily  removes  the  veil — Catherine  remains  on  her 
knee ,  pa'e,  her  eyes  cast  down)  Catherine  Howard  !  great  heaven  !  what  can 
this  mean  !  do  l  gaze  upon  a  shadow,  or  reality?  ( taking  her  in  his  arms 
and  raising  her)  Living!  oh,  it  cannot  be  1  for  did  I  not  behold  you  ex- 
tendel  o  i  the  tanlet,  enveloped  in  a  shroud,  and  pale  and  frozen  as  a 
marble  statue?  Has  Heaven  permitted  yon  to  rise  from  the  funeral 
bier  ?  Oh,  speak,  speak  !  your  voice  alone  can  prove  to  me  that  yon  are 
not  a  phantom. 

Gath.  Sire,  am  I  thd  first  maid  deemed  dead,  when  only  in  a  trance, 
who  h  is  awakened  in  the  coffin  wherein  she  had  been  placed. 

Hen.  King  of  Kings,  King  Harry  thank  thee!  Knew  yon  that  I  loved 
you  ? 

Cath.  I  had  been  told  so,  sire. 

Hen.  Knew  you  that,  rendered  desperate,  I  descended  to  your  tomb  1 

Cat ii.  That  too,  I  was  told. 

Hex.  And  knew  you  that  it  was  this  band  which  placed  that  ring  upon 
your  finger  ? 

Cath.  The  ring  I  baved  restored  to  you,  sire. 

Hex.  And  was  your  trance  so  deep,  that  you  remember  naoght  of  all 
that  passed  while  you  so  slept  ? 

Cath.  Nothing. 

Hex.  And  your  previous  life? 

Cath.  I  have  forgotten  it. 

Hex.  Entirely  1 

Cath.  I  live  only  since  the  moment  that  I  issued  from  my  grave 
— I  have  no  memory  for  aught  beyond. 

Hex.  But,  tell  me,  dearest  Catherine,  how  got* you  from  the  vault? 

Cath.  ( looking  at  a  key,  which  she  holds  pressed  in  her  hand).  Every 
vault  has  a  key  which  closes  and  which  opens  it. 

Hex  Oh,  I  shudder  at  the  thought  that  yon  might  have  remained 
enclosed  within  that  sepulchre,  living  amongst  the  dead — -and  none  have 
known  that  you  were  there. 

Cath.  Horror  !  {starting)  that  would  have  been  most  awful  f 

Hex.  To  awake  within  a  coffin,  alone,  in  darkness — vainly  to  shriek 
for  succor,  and  to  be  answered  only  by  the  dreary  echoes  ;  at  last  to 
feel  approach  the  pangs  of  hunger - - 

Oath.  No  more,  rro  more  !  {in  great  agony,  carrying  her  hand  to  her 
head)  Oh,  atrocious,  most  atrocious' 


ACT  111. 


27 


Hen.  Forgive  me  for  llius  recalling  to  your  thoughts  such  horrors, 
rnd — stay — receive  again  this  ring.  (  placing  it  on  her  finger)  Never  more 
to  be  plucked  from  your  finger. 

Oath.  So  you  renew  to  Catherine,  the  living,  the  promises  made  to 
Catherine  the  dead  ? 

Hen.  All — my  palace  and  my  throne, — thou  shalt  share  with  me  ;  thy 
most  golden  dreams  shall  be  realized;  thou  shalt  level  in  every  delight 
which  this  world  can  afford  ;  where’er  my  power  extends,  thou  shalt 
command  ;  thou  shalt  be  happy. 

Catu.  ( looking  at  key  in  her  hand).  Bo  you  think  so  1 

Hen.  By  my  faith,  yes  !  wherefore  should  st  thou  not  'l  Art  thou  not 
young,  beautiful,  beloved - 

Cath.  And  queen  I 

IIen.  We  will  be  united,  sans  delay,  in  our  private  chapel;  and  to¬ 
morrow  I  will  publicly  proclaim  Catherine  Howard  the  Queen  of  Henry 
the  Eighth. 

Cath.  ( going  rapidly  to  window).  Sire,  the  water  flowing  beneath  this 
window — is  it  very  deep? 

Hen.  Yes.  ( seeing  her  extend  the  hand  which  holds  the  key).  What  is’t 
you  do  1 

Cath.  ( dropping  key).  Nothing  !  {aside)  I  make  myself  queen,  {aloud) 
Sire,  your  affianced  bride  is  ready. 

Hen.  {embracing  her).  Ah,  beloved  Kate,  await  me  here;  speedily  I 
shall  return.  [Hurries  off,  d.  r.  c. 

Cath.  Am  I  really  now  awake,  or  is  all  that’s  passing  round  me  but  a 
dream.  I  feel  impelled  by  an  invisible  breath,  which  urges  me  forward, 
like  the  dust  of  the  earth,  or  the  clouds  of  heaven.  But  the  past  ?  The 
past  is  annihilated  ;  the  present  only  is  something,  the  future  everything. 
1  exist,  I  live!  all  that  is  occurring  to  me  now  is  real;  what  matters  to 
me,  then,  the  rest.  This  is  the  palace,  this  the  throne  ;  my  foot  is  on  the 
first  step,  {places  it)  I  ascend,  {does  so)  I  sit.  {sits  in  throne  chair)  Oh, 
to  assure  me  that  all  this  is  true,  let  some  one  approach  and  bow  before 
me  ;  let  them  acknowledge  my  power,  and  salute  me  as  the  Queen. 

Enter  Athelwold,  pale  and  haggard,  from  door,  L.  c. — he  advances  slowly , 
and  placis  l  is  foot  on  the  first  step  of  the  throne. 

Athel.  {bowing).  Hail  Catherine  Howard,  Queen  of  England ! 

Cath.  ( aghast ,  fulling  back  in  chair).  Horror,  horror! 

Athel.  Scarcely  a  moment  are  you  Queen,  but  yet,  already,  Catlie- 
r'ne,  you  see,  that  as  soon  as  they’re  expressed,  your  wishes  are  accom¬ 
plished. 

Cath.  Athelwold ! 

Athel.  Do  you  indeed  recognize  me  ;  the  grave  is  treacherous,  is  it 
not  ?  you  deemed  ’twas  more  secure  and  more  profound. 

Cath.  Mercy  !  awaken  me,  oh,  Heaven  !  no  longer  let  me  writhe  a 
prey  to  this  most  hellish  dream. 

Atiiel.  How  gladly  would  you  hear  ’twas  but  a  dream;  but,  no, 
'Catherine,  no,  you  do  not  sleep. 

Cath.  Art  thou  a  spectre — a  phantom  shade  ! 

Atiiel.  Yes — to  all  but  thee;  to  thee  1  live — am  still  thy  husband; 
to  all  the  rest,  as  thou  savest  I  am  a  shadow  ! 

Cath  What  devil  has  evoked  thee  from  thy  close-shut  marble  home  ? 

Athel  Thou  didst  forget,  fair  Catherine,  that  there  were  two  keys  ; 
that  L  gave  thee  one,  and  that  the  king  received  the  other.  Thou  didst 
forget  that  there  were  two  women  —  one  whom  I  did  not  love,  but  who 
loved  me  (she  is  the  Princess  Margaret),  the  other  whom  I  loved,  but 


28 


C.V111EUINK  lloWAKD. 


who  loved  me  not,  and  she  is  Catherine  Howard.  These  women  have 
changed  characters ;  who  should  have  remembered  has  forgotten;  who 
should  have  forgotten  has  remembered  ;  so  that  on  my  awakening,  I  be¬ 
held  the  one  instead  of  the  other,  beside  my  tomb. 

Cath  Oh,  I  crave  your  mercy,  Athelwold  !  ( going  to  him)  Forgive  me, 
anil  let  us  fly!  let  us  depart  together,  as  you  at  first  did  wish.  I  am 
ready  !— conceal  me  within  your  cloak,  bear  me  in  your  own  dear  arms, 
hide  me  in  some  remote  and  desolate  corner  of  the  earth ;  but  let  us  fly 
—let  us  fly  ! 

Athel.  ( repulsing  her).  No,  lady,  the  destiny  of  all  on  earth  must  be 
jiccomplished,  mine,  equally  with  your  own. 

Cath.  Athelwold  ! 

Athel.  You  were  of  humble  birth,  but  not  content  to  be  a  Duke's 
wife — you  thirsted  to  be  Queen.  Well,  your  wish  wflll  be  gratified — you 
have  not  feared  the  passion  of  Henry  the  Eighth — yet  his  love  will  de¬ 
stroy  you. 

Cath.  Oh,  have  pity  on  me. 

Athel.  You  have  desired  a  crown  and  you  will  rest  it  on  your  brow,  but 
it  will  whiten  your  hair  ;  you  have  sighed  for  a  sceptre — you  will  grasp 
it,  but  it  will  wither  your  hand  ;  you  have  sought  a  thione — you  have 
mounted  it,  but  in  descending  you  will  stumble  against  Anne  Bolyen’s 
block. 

Cath.  ( clapping  her  hands  to  her  neck).  Oh,  saints  in  heaven  ! 

Athel.  Ha,  lady! — that  your  sleep  may  1  ave  golden  dreams,  you 
need  a  bed  whereon  already  four  queens  Lave  reposed  !  Dare  to  close 
your  eyes  there,  Catherine,  and  on  the  morrow  you  shall  tell  me  what 
those  queens  said  when  they  came  to  you,  at  the  hour  when  ghosts  steal 
from  their  tombs. 

Cath.  Am  1  to  see  you,  then,  again  ? 

Athel.  Canst  thou  doubt  it,  Catherine  ?  Have  we  not  stood  together 
at  the  altar?  and  death  alone  can  separate  those  whom  Heaven  hath 
united.  Yes,  thou  wilt  again  behold  me,  for  the  most  secret  passages 
of  the  palace  are  familiar  to  me  ;  ai  d  Fit  mine,  and  the  Princess  Mar¬ 
garet  will  lend  me  their  aid,  and  will  be  silent.  Catherine  How  aid, 
though  the  Queen  of  England,  is  none  the  less  Countess  of  Nothumber- 
land.  The  Nothumberland’s  rights  are  more  ancient,  madam,  than  those 
of  the  Tudor;  and,  faithful  subject  though  I  am,  1  can  consent  to  yield 
to  him  but  a  portion  of  them. 

Catii.  What  is  that  you  would  do  ? 

Athel.  Your  ascenion  to  the  throne  has  been  but  slow  and  tortuous  ; 
enjoy  without  delay,  the  happiness  of  having  reached  it,  for  straight  and 
rapid  will  be  your  fall  therefrom. 

Cath.  But  to  crush  me,  you  must  also  destroy  yourself. 

Athel.  1  have  told  you,  Catherine,  that  in  life  and  death  my  destiny 
is  your  own.  We  have  reposed  in  the  same  bed — we  will  mount  the 
same  scaffold — will  lie  within  the  self-same  grave. 

Cath.  The  king  approaches — fly,  my  lord,  fly  ! 

Athelwold  darts  to  small  door ,  l.  c.,  and  holding  it  open  is  concealed  be¬ 
hind  it.  r.  c  doors  are  thrown  open  and  Lords,  Pages,  &c.,  enter — 
Henry  comes  forward  and  takes  Catherine’s  hand. 

Hen.  M  y  lords  and  gentleman,  behold  the  Queen.  (Two  or  Three 
Voices  exclaim  “  Long  Live  the  Queen  ” — All  bow.)  Kate,  I  have  kept  my 
word — the  archbishop  stands  in  readiness. 

Athel.  {aside).  Let  me  now  fulfill  mine.  Catherine,  I  go  to  prepare 
the  executioner. 


ACT  nr. 


29 


Flourish  -  all  go  up  c. — Catherine,  at  back,  turns  and  sees  Athelwold, 
who  is  gazing  menacingly  on  her — she  shudders,  tetters  a  subdued  cry,  and 
clings  to  Henry — all  turn  towards  her — Athelwold  disappears ,  closing 

L.  C. 

Scene  closes  in. 

SCENE  II. — Street  in  1st  grooves. 

Enter  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  attended ,  l. — Duke  of  Sussex,  attended ,  r. 

Sus.  Still  in  England,  my  lord  !  I  believed  ere  this,  you  had  renewed 
acquaintance  with  the  Scots  on  the  Banks  of  Tweed. 

Nor.  Within  the  next  four-and-twenty  hours  I  certainly  shall  depart; 
but  have  you  heard  the  news  at  Court,  my  lord] 

Sus.  No  ;  1  have  this  instant  returned  to  London.  Has  aught  of  im¬ 
portance — 

Nor.  Then  you  do  not  know  that  Athelwold  is  dead? 

Sus.  Dead!  heaven  forefend  !  how  very  sudden. 

Nor.  And  something  even  more  important  still  has  happened  ;  but  I 
have  no  time  to  tell  you  now,  unless,  indeed,  you  make  my  way  ;  there¬ 
by — 

Sus.  Oh,  I  have  no  momentous  matter  on  my  hands,  and  am  most 
anxious  to  learn - 

Nor.  Come,  then,  my  lord.  [Exeunt,  r. 

Ma  rtin  Krixkly  enters,  l.  dragging  on  Simon  by  the  collar. 

Krink.  Do  not  be  ridiculous,  Simon,  but  come  along. 

Simon.  1  object  to  this  proceeding — it  is  a  liberty. 

Krink.  1  am  very  glad  of  it,  for  liberty  is  a  scarce  commodity  now- 
a-davs. 

Simon.  You  have  dragged  me  from  my  home. 

Krink.  And  not  without  sufficient  reason — I  am  thirsty. 

Simon.  This  is  tyranny  ! 

Krink.  Of  course  it  is.  I  tell  you,  Simon,  the  country  is  full  of 
tyrants — there  is  no  such  thing  as  f  ee  lorn  for  a  living  mortal.  Look  at 
me,  Simon,  I  pay  taxes — well.  (  pointing )  the  owner  of  yonder  tavern, 
not  an  hour  since,  forcibly  ejected  me  from  his  premises,  because,  after 
I  ha  1  drunk  a  flagon  of  his  vile  home-brewed,  he  suddenly  discovered 
that  I  had  in  money  wherewith  to  pay  for  it. 

Simon.  And  served  you  right,  Martin. 

Krink.  Simon,  you  are  unworthy  the  blesssings  of  freedom.  I  pant 
for  that  liberty,  whether  I  have  money  or  not,  I  may  help  myself  to 
whatever  I  think  proper. 

Simon.  If  your  wife  knew - 

Krink.  Mention  not  the  femal  >  here.  Simon,  do  vou  know  that  one 
of  our  tyrants  is  defunct — the  Duke  of  Northumberland  is  no  more  ] 

Simon.  Poor  gentleman,  he  had  a  good  heart — he  was  kind  to  the 
poor. 

Krink.  Yes,  and  now  observe  how  basely  he  has  acted — evidently 
weary  of  these  donations,  he  has  poisoned  himself,  that  he  might  hence¬ 
forth  save  his  money,  and  be  rid  of  their  importunities. 

Simon.  Poisoned  himself!  oh.  dear,  that  was  very  wrong. 

Krink.  Simon,  I  see  it  plainly— you  carry  about  with  you  the  germs 
of  tyranny,  and  if  you  had  had  the  power  would  no  doubt  have  taken 
from  him  the  liberty  to  destroy  himself. 

Simon.  Certainly,  I  am  a  Christian. 


30 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


Krink.  Po;>1i,  Simon,  a  Christian  is  nothing;  but  I  am  a  man — I  pay 
taxes — man  should  Ik*  a  bee  agent,  socome  along,  Simon,  {grasping  him) 
you  have  money,  ami  my  throat  is  remarkably  dry.  {shout  without,  r.) 
Eh  ?  what  is  that  ?  have  the  people  risen  for  their  liberties  ?  then  I  shall 
go  home  and  pray  for  their  success. 

Simon  (going  to  k.).  Rise?  ridiculous!  what  for?  ( looking  off,  r.) 
No — I  see — ’tis  the  brave  Duke  of  Sussex  ;  as  he  passes  along  the  people 
recognize  him. 

Martin.  Oh,  miserable  slaves!  to  shout  because  they  see  a  lord — and 
that  is  liberty. 

Simon.  Certainly — the  liberty  to  shout. 

Krink.  Simon,  thank  Heaven  I  still  have  the  liberty  to  say  that  you 
are  a  fool,  {turns  from  him.) 

Simon.  Ah,  but  that  is  making  rather  too  free. 

Duke  of  Sussex  and  Attendants  enter  r — Simon  bows  and  draivs  back 

—  Duke  passes  over  to  l. 

Krink.  {not  seeing  Sussex).  And  would  I  shout —would  I  humble 
myself  before  a  lord  ?  never ! 

Sussex  {close  to  Martin).  Sutler  me  to  pass,  good  fellow. 

Krink  {starting,  turning,  and  seeing  Duke).  Certainly,  my  lord — l 
crave  pardon — I  was  not  aware — {bowing  humbly  an.l  profoundly,  and 
drawing  back  as  Duke  and  h  s  Attendants  go  off) 

Krink.  There  goes  one  of  the  foes  to  liberty. 

Simon.  Tue.i  why  did  you  bow  so  lowly  to  him  ? 

Krink.  To  hide  from  him  the  indignation  in  my  countenance. 

Simon.  Pooh  !  you  are  a  counterfeit. 

Krink.  Counterfeit !  how  do  you  mean  ?  I  am  a  man— I  pay  taxes — 
and  I  pant  for  freedom— and  1  say  that  lords  are  foes  to  liberty — and 
while  those  lords  aie  at  liberty  there  can  be  no  liberty. 

Captain  of  Guard  and  Two  Soldiers  pass  behind  from  j,.  to  r. 

{not  seeing  them)  And  if  it  needed  a  hand  to  exterminate  every  lord  in 
the  kingdom — even  the  king — I - 

Captain  {suddenly  stopping).  Treason  !  {advancing  quickly,  l  )  Which 
of  you  uttered  that  ? 

Simon.  It  was - 

Krink.  (quickly).  Certainly,  it  was  he— he  is  for  ever  talking  treason. 
I  am  a  man— I  pay  taxes. 

Capt.  (  pointing  to  Simon).  Secure  him  ! 

Simon  {as  they  seize  him).  No,  no — I  assure  you — Oh,  Martin! 

Krink.  Simon,  ’Lis  my  duty  to  sacrilice  you — liberty  demands  it. 

Simon  {in  great  alarm).  Suffer  me  to  speak - 

Capt.  You  have  already  said  too  much. 

Martin.  Certainly  !  much  too  much — away  with  him. 

[Simon  ts  taken  off,  r 

Capt  Worthy  fellow,  we  shall  need  your  evidence — follow  to  the 
guard-house.  [Exit  Captain,  r. 

Krink.  At  present  ’tis  not  convenient.  Simon  will  be  no  loss  to  soci¬ 
ety  ;  I  only  shall  regret  him  ;  for,  he  gone,  whence  will  come  the  spiced 
ale  so  necessary  to  inspire  my  patriotic  ardor  ?  Now,  I  will  go  home  to 
my  domestic  tyrant,  with  the  sweet  consolation  that  I  am  a  man — I  pay 
taxes — that  I  am  not  unworthy  to  be  free;  for  I  have  this  instant  sacri¬ 
ficed  my  friend  to  preserve  my  own  liberty. 

[  With  Roman  firmness,  exit,  L. 


act  m. 


31 


Scene  changes  to. 

SCENE  III. — The  Queen’s  Chamber  in  Ath  grooves.  Boor,  l.  f.,  covered 

with  tapestry — door ,  u.  8  e. 

Catherine  discovered  seated  l.  2  e. — her  elbows  on  a  tabic,  and  her  face 

buried  in  her  hands. 

Cath.  Oil,  how  quickly  will  my  brow  be  farrowed  by  wearing  this 
mask  of  gayely  while  misery  is  at  my  heart,  (rises)  I  thought  that  I 
should  love  him  because  he  was  a  king — love  him  !  (goes  to  a.)  I  fear 
him,  that  is  all.  (sinks  on  coach,  it.  c. ) 

Athelwold,  unseen  by  Catherine,  raises  tapestry  of  i>.  l.  f. — enters  and 

slowly  advances. 

And  oh.  should  he.  continue  to  pursue — he  said  this  morning  he  would 
^  come  to  me  ! — L  dare  net  look  around  lest  I  should  see  him  standing 
iliere,  (pointing ,  without  lookmg ,  oi  the  spot  where  Athelwold  is  standing) 
stern,  and  menacing — iest  1  should  hear  his  sepulchral  voice  pronounce 
my  name,  (starting  up)  I  will  summon  my  Maids  of  Honor — why  do 
they  leave  me  thus  alone  ?  (about  to  ring  bell,  l — her  hand  is  arrested  by 
that  of  Athelwold.) 

Athel.  One  instant,  Catherine! 

Cath.  Great  Heaven  !  How  got  you  here? 

Atiiel.  (pointing).  By  that  door,  which  communicates  with  the  apart¬ 
ments  of  the  Princess  Margaret. 

Cath.  You  are  a  magician  !  I  myself,  locked  that  door. 

Athel.  You  always  forget,  Catherine,  that  there  may  be  two  keys  to 
every  lock ! 

Catii.  (going  hastily  to  a.  &.).  This,  at  least — (secures  r.  d.  by  placing 
the  wooden  bar  across  it.) 

Athel.  Poor  Catherine  !  thou  art  as  anxious  now  to  prevent  the  king 
beholding  me,  as  1  was  foimerly  to  guard  you  from  Ins  sight. 

Cath.  Oh,  if  he  saw  me  here  with  you,  we  both  were  lost. 

Athel.  The  very  words* which  once  I  spoke  to  you. 

Cath.  And  now,  what  would  you  with  me  ?  speak ! 

Athel,  I  would  know  if  thy  new  fortune  hath  made  thee  happy. 

Cath.  Happy  1  Athelwold  !  I  could  not  wish  such  happiness  to  the 
murderer  of  my  mother  !  Rest  satisfied,  that  you  are  well  avenged; — 
did  you  but  know  how  much  l  suffer,  oh  !  surely  you  would  pity  me. 

Athel.  Pity,  madam  !  that  wou'd  be  a  strange  sentiment  to  cherish 
for  a  queen.  Pity  you  ! — have  you  not  gained  all  that  you  so  much  de¬ 
sired-obsequious  pages,  a  brilliant  court,  superb  vestments,  and  sump¬ 
tuous  apartments  ? 

Cath.  Oh,  for  Nurse  Kennedy,  my  plain  white  robe,  my  little  room 
at  Richmond — and  thee,  my  Athelwold,  loving  me  as  thou  once  loved 
me  !  (sinks  on  couch,  u.  c  ) 

Athel.  (sitting  at  table  near  couch).  Yes — I,  at  that  time  was  sad  while 
you  were  gay.  You  have  not  forgotten,  Catherine,  the  ballad  that  }rou 
so  oft  recited  to  tne  1  The  king  has  received  his  answer — the  bondwo¬ 
man  wears  a  crown. 

Cath.  Oh,  unhappily,  yes  ! 

Athel.  (rising .  and  seating  himself  on  stool  at  Catherine’s  feet).  When 
I  asked  you  for  tlm  sequel  of  the  loves  of  Richard  and  Elfrida  the  fair, 
yon  answered  ihnt  you  did  not  know  it — shall  I  relate  it  to  you  ? 

Cath.  To  what  purpose] 


32 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


Athel.  Because  the  story  may  interest  yon,  since  it  bears  a  close  ro¬ 
se  nblanee  to  our  own.  (  places  his  hat  on  couch.) 

Cath.  Say  and  do  whatever  you  will — you  are  the  master. 

Athel.  Well,  Elfrida  answered  “  Yes,’’  and  became  queen. 

Cath.  Unhappy  woman  !  to  be  a  queen  ! 

Athel.  But  she  had  forgotten  one  thing — which  was,  to  confess  her 
amour  with  Richard  to  her  royal  husband.  ’Tis  very  strange,  but  there 
w-as  at  that  time  a  law  exactly  similar  to  that  which  Henry  of  England 
has  passed,  which  condemned  to  death  any  female  who,  after  a  like  af¬ 
fection,  should,  without  informing  him  of  it,  espouse  the  king. 

Cath.  To  death  1 

Athel.  ’Tis  true  that  this  secret  was  known  only  to  Richard — Richard 
her  accomplice. 

Cath.  And  that  law  condemned  the  accomplice  to  the  same  death 
that  it  inflicted  on  the  guilty  woman. 

Athel.  Yes;  but  what  is  death  to  a  man  who  has  been  jealous;  es¬ 
pecially  when  that  death  brings  him  revenge  upon  the  woman  that  caused 
him  to  suffer  all  the  tortures  of  hell. 

Catis.  Mercy  ! 

Athel.  Richard  found  means  to  gain  entrance  into  the  Palace;  pen¬ 
etrating  even  to  the  apartments  of  the  queen,  who,  no  doubt,  was  study¬ 
ing  by  what  way  she  could  he  rid  of  that  man. 

Cath.  (quickly).  Oh,  yon  cannot  think  that  1 

Athel.  Oh,  no  !  Perhaps  she  would  only  have  immured  him  within 
some  vault,  of  which  she  alone  possessed  the  key ;  she  might  there 
have  left  him  to  die  of  hunger  and  thirst ;  or  have  him  stricken  with  a 
dagger - 

Cath.  Oh,  never,  never  1 

Athel.  However,  that  he  might  be  prepared  for  every  hazard,  lie 
wore  beneath  his  vestments  a  coat  of  mail — like  this.  ( draws  aside  his 
tunic,  and  displays  a  coat  of  mail)  For  though  Richard  feared  not  death, 
he  greatly  dreaded  the  loss  of  vengeance!  Well,  as  I  said,  he  penetrated 
to  the  queen’s  chamber  where  she  was  alone;  he  seated  himself  at  her 
back,  as  I  am  now  at  yours.  Then  he  took  the  hands  with  which  she 
would  have  concealed  her  face — (dragging  her  hands  doum,  as  she  is  about 
to  hide  her  face,  and  ho' ding  them ) — and  forcing  Her  to  look  into  bis  eyes, 
he  said  to  her,  £:  Catherine,” — no,  I  mistake,  Elfrida — “  never  was  woman 
loved  by  man  as  l  loved  thee !  ”  Speak. 

Cath.  Never ! 

Athel.  “  Never  man  sacriflced  so  much  for  woman,  as  I  for  thee !  ** 
Speak. 

Cath.  Never,  never! 

Athel.  “  And  never  was  man  so  atrociously  rewarded  as  I  have 
been.”  (rising)  Speak,  will  you,  speak? 

Cath.  (rising  from  couch,  and  bending  before  him).  Mercy,  mercy  ! 

Athel.  (despar ingly).  Oh,  be  would  have  pardoned  everything  in  that 
woman,  her  forgetfulness,  her  ingratitude,  even  his  death,  everything, 
except  having  passed  into  the  arms  of  another;  he  could  not  forgive 
her  that — it  was  impossible  that  he  could  ever  pardon  her,  and  so  they 
perished  both  ! 

Cath.  Perished  !  (trumpets  heard.) 

Athel.  Yes  ;  for  wl.-ilst  the  queen’s  lover  was  locked  with  her,  in  her 
chamber,  the  king  returned  from  the  council  board. 

Cath.  My  lord,  my  lord  !  those  trumpets  announce  that  the  king  is 
coming  hither  !  fly,  oh,  fly  ! 

Athel.  (immovable).  And  as  he  would  not  leave- - 

Cath.  Ah  ! 


ACT  III. 


33 


Athel.  When  the  kin"  reached  the  door  of  the  queen’s  apartments — 
( knocking  at  d.  r.) — he  found  it  firmly  sealed  ! 

Hen.  (without).  Open,  Kale,  it  is  1. 

Catii.  (imploringly).  My  lord,  my  lord  !  ( clinging  to  Athelwold.) 

Athel.  ( raising  his  voice).  And  heard  two  voices  together  speaking. 

Hen.  Catherine,  you  are  not  alone  !  Open. 

Atiiel.  ( thrusting  Catherine  from  him ,  who  falls).  Ha,  Hal  ’tis  now 
thy  turn  to  feel  the  pangs  of  jealously. 

Cath.  (kneeling).  Be  merciful,  and  slay  me  ! 

Hen.  (without).  Aid  me,  gentlemen — guards  force  the  door  !  (the 
door  is  struck  violently  without ,  r.) 

Cath.  (pointing  to  door ,  which  is  yielding).  See — see  ! 

Athel.  Yes,  it  is  time  that  I  should  quit  thee,  but,  Catherine,  we 
shall  meet  again  ! 


Hurries  off  behind  the  tapestry,  l.  c.,  as  D.  r.  3  E.  is  forced  open,  and 
Henry  enters,  sword  in  hand ,  accompanied  by  Lords,  §c. — Soldiers 
appear  in  the  doorway. 


Hen.  (looking  round):  No  one !  how  is  this  ?  Who,  madam,  has  been 
With  you  7  ( grasping  her  arm)  Look  at  me,  and  answer  ! 

Cath.  No  one  sire— no  one;  you  see  that  I  am  alone.  (Henry 
searches ,  and  suddenly  secs  Athelwold’s  hat.) 

Hen.  (holding  hat  towards  her).  And  this - 

Cath.  Oh,  heaven  ! 

Hen.  (going  to  tapestry  door ,  l.  c.).  He  to  whom  it  belongs  can  only 
have  left  by  this  portal  !  Am  I  not  right'? 

Cath.  (running  to  him \  Sire  ! 

Hen.  (trying  door).  Made  fast! 

Cath.  (reassured).  You  see - 

Hen.  The  key  ! 

Cath.  The  key— I — I  know  nothing  of  it,  sire. 

Hen.  Search,  and  you  will  find  it.  Search,  I  say! 

Cath.  Impossible — I  cannot  remember - 

Hen.  Will  you  swear  you  have  it  not  about  you  7 

Cath.  (  producing  key ,  and  offering  it).  ’Tis  here,  sire. 

Hen.  (endeavoring  to  open  d  f  ).  ’Sdeath  !  is  it  so? — the  point  of  a 
dagger  broken  in  the  lock  !  Ah  !  your  accomplice  has  contrived  his 
measures  admirably  to  prevent  pursuit ;  but  he  forgot  that  he  would 
leave  you  within  my  power.  The  name,  madam,  of  that  man  ? 

Catii.  Sire,  I  implore  you - 

Hen.  His  name  ? 

Catii.  (entreatingly).  No  one,  sire  ! 

Hen.  His  name  ? 

Catii.  Oh,  I  cannot,  sire — T  cannot ! 

Hen.  Ah,  you  cannot ! — so  said  Anne  Boleyn  too,  but  we  found  means 
to  conquer  her  silence,  and  closely  as  her  adulterous  lips  were  sealed,  vet 
agony  wrung  from  them  the  name  of  Norris  !  For  the  last  time,  Cathe¬ 
rine,  the  name  of  your  paramour  ? 

Cath.  I  am  at  your  mercy,  sire :  do  with  me  what  you  will. 

Hen.  And  not  to  justify  thyself — not  a  word  to  make  me  doubt  the 
evidence  of  my  senses  ?  Again  deceived — again  betrayed — and  always 
by  those  most  near  and  dear  lo  me.  Captain  of  the  Guard,  secure  your 
prisoner! 

Cath.  Oh,  sire — sire! 

Hen.  Catherine !  be  ready  to  appear  before  the  judges  who  con- 


34 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


demned  Anne  Boleyn  to  the  scaffold  ? ‘(Catherine  utters  a  despairing  cry, 
and  falls  senseless  to  the  ground — Henry  turns  away.  Tableau.) 

Scene  closes  in. 

SCENE  IV. — Hoorn  in  Martin  Krinkley’s  House ,  in  1st  grooves. 

Enter  Martin,  followed  by  Winifred,  r. 

Winif.  Stir  from  the  house  at  thy  peril  ! 

Krink.  Oh,  gramercy  !  and  I  am  a  man — I  pay  taxes - 

Winif.  If  I  were  not  more  thrifty  than  thou — lazy  varlet ! — nothing 
would  be  paid. 

Krink.  And  must  I  suffer  my  patriotic  nature  to  be  subdued  by  a 
woman? — must  I  be  pent  up  within  four  walls,  while  my  heart  is  strug¬ 
gling  for  a  nation’s  liberty  ?  Woman,  know’st  thou  the  value  of  free¬ 
dom  'l 

Winif.  Yes,  but  thou  shalt  not,  for  at  least  a  week  to  come.  I  war¬ 
rant  me,  thou  wouldst  go  to  Simon  Kreetnur  ? 

Krink.  No,  decidedly,  I  have  no  inclination  thereto — it  would  not 
harmonize  with  the  liberty  I  contend  for. 

Enter  Simon  Kreetnur,  l. 

Simon!  and  free  1  Let  me  embrace  thee,  thou  martyr  to  liberty  ! 

Simon.  Keep  off!  Your  turn  will  come  Oh,  Mistress  Krinklv !  hast 
thou  heard  the  dreadful  tidings  1  Catherine  Howard,  so  lately  become 
queen,  is  sentenced  to  be  beheaded. 

Winif.  Oh,  dear,  dear  !  another  poor  creature  doomed  to  the  block  ! 
My  heart  foreboded  that  Anne  Boleyn  would  not  be  the  last.  What  a 
time  for  us  lovely  women  ! 

Krink.  And  there  again — why  should  a  king  arrogate  to  himself  a 
liberty  that  he  denies  his  subjects  ? 

Winif.  What  dost  thou  mean,  dolt? 

Krink.  The  king  has  had  five  wives — I  but  one.  When  he  wearies 
of  them,  he  makes  them  shorter  by  the  head.  I  am  a  man — I  pay  taxes 
—wherefore,  then,  should  I  not  enjoy  the  same  precious  liberty  ? 

Winif.  Oh,  thou  Bluebeard! 

Krink.  Why  should  not  I,  at  the  present  moment,  be  about  to  rid 
myself  of  my  fifth  wife  ?  Nay,  I  tvould  not  complain  if  I  were  even 
now  allowed  thus  pleasantly  to  put  away  my  first.  The  smallest  dona¬ 
tion  to  liberty  svould  be  thankfully  received. 

Winif.  (in  a  rage').  Thou  wretch  ! 

Krink.  But,  Simon,  there  is  no  hope  for  liberty. 

Winif.  (striking  him  on  the  shoidder).  Thou  monster! 

Krink.  (roaring).  Oh  !  Simon,  liberty  has  received  a  heavy  blow. 

Simon.  Martin,  I  despise  you — you  ate  a  traitor  to  your  friend. 

Krink.  Friend !  I  reject  the  term— you  are  my  instrument — my 
victim. 

Simon.  Very  well,  then,  we  shall  presently  change  places,  for  I  very 
soon  found  witnesses  to  prove  that  it  was  you  who  always  talked  treason. 

Winif.  What  is  all  this  ? 

Simon.  He  caused  me  to  be  locked  in  prison  for  his  faults,  Mistress 
Winifred. 

Winif.  Oh.  thou  maninkin  ! 

Krink.  What  so  sacred  as  our  liberty? 

Simon.  And  soldiers  will  be  here  to  convey  him  to  the  Towrer. 


ACT  III. 


35 


Winif.  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it. 

Krink.  What?  then,  I  am  lost.  Oh,  Simon,  you  surely  could  not! — 
/msay  your  words..  01^  I  implore  you,  by  our  long-tried  friendship — 
surely  you  will  not  basely  sacrifice  me  to  save  your  own  worthless  life  ? 
Simon,  by  the  many  cups  of  sack  that  we  have  drunk  together — and 
you  have  always  paid  for — I  implore  you,  save  me. 

Simon.  You  know,  Martin,  ’tis  my  duty  to  sacrifice  you — liberty  de¬ 
mands  it. 

Krink.  No,  Simon,  my  liberty  does  not  demand  anything  of  the  sort; 
*rMM0N  turns  from  him)  The  tyrant  is  inexorable.  You,  Winifred,  my 
iond,  my  doating  wife — you  will  save  me — hide  me — think  of  liberty, 
and  lock  me  in  the  ale-cellar. 

Winif.  No,  Martin,  thou  dost  deserve  thy  punishment,  and  the  law 
must  take  its  course. 

Krink.  Take  its  course!  Oh,  that  means  that  my  blockhead  must  go 
to  the  block.  Oh,  how  loose  my  head  does  feel.  Winifred  Krinkly, 
now  I  understand  your  atrocious  nature — you  are  a  disciple  of  the 
King’s  liberty — you  are  a  female  Harry  the  Eighth,  Mistress  Winifred; 
and  you  are  about  to  repudiate  yopr  first  husband.  Oh,  ’tis  all  very  well 
to  be  a  patriot — but  I  never  intended  to  be  a  martyr,  {going  l.) 

Captain  of  Guard  enters,  l. 

Capt.  Hg.lt!  Martui  Krinkly - 

Simon,  {pointing).  That  is  the  illustrious  individual. 

Capt.  Good  ! 

Krink.  Mercy,  your  Inghness,  1  am  a  man— I  pay  taxes, 

Capt.  Martin  Krinkly,  my  soldiers  are  without,  and  I  arrest  thee  for 
seditious  speech — come. 

Krink  No,  no;  mercy*  have  you  no  regard  for  the  liberty  of  the 
subject  ? 

Capt.  Thou  art  dangerous  to  the  king’s  welfare. 

Krink.  Me  ?  there  never  was  a  more  harmless  mortal — T  appeal  to 
my  wife — she  has  known  me  a  great  many  years — even  before  I  was 
married. 

Capt.  {suddenly  drawing  his  sword).  Come  ! 

Krink.  {falling  on  his  knees).  No,  no,  do  not  kill  me  here — not  before 
my  wife— respect  her  feelings,  if  you  have  no  regard  for  mine.  Let  me 
have  liberty  to  kneel  at  your  feet — I  love  the  king — admire  his  policy — 
particularly  his  matrimonial  arrangements.  Henry  the  Eighth  for  ever 
— long  live  the  king  !  hurrah! 

Winif.  Captain,  thou  may’st  spare  him,  for  he  is  but  a  silly  goose, 
and  his  cackle  very  harmless. 

Krink.  {still  on  his  knees).  There,  I  told  your  worship  that  she  knew 
me. 

Capt.  It  is  the  character  that  I  before  have  heard  of  him ;  but  so 
much  license  cannot  be  permitted  to  his  tongue.  If,  however,  you,  who 
appear  a  prudent  woman,  will  undertake  to  control  him - 

Krink.  Of  course  she  will — ’tis  her  constant  custom. 

Winif.  Trust  me  that,  for  the  future  ;  I  shall  hold  him  with  a  tight 
rein. 

Simon.  And  take  my  advice,  Mistress  Winifred,  sometimes  apply  the 
lash. 

Krink.  {looking  reproachfully  at  Simon).  And  that  fs  the  friend  whose 
spiced  ale  I  have  so  often  drunk  ! 

Capt.  Then,  Martin  Krinkly,  I  spare  thee  for  the  present;  but  re¬ 
member,  thou  wilt  be  strictly  watched.  [Exit,  l. 


30 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


Krink.  ( on  his  knees).  I  am  a  man — I  pay  taxes — and  (/  okm</  at  him¬ 
self)  this  is  the  tax  I  have  to  pay  for  liberty. 

Win  if.  Get  thee  to  thy  home,  instantly,  Simon. 

Simon  Yes,  Mistress  Winifred!  farewell,  most  valiant  patriot — most 
illustrious  martyr.  [Exit,  l. 

Winif.  Rise,  varlet !  how  could’st  thou  so  degrade  thy  manhood  as  to 
kneel  to  a  captain  of  the  guard  ? 

Krink.  (rising).  You  cannot  possibly  think  that  I  bowed  the  knee  to 
him  ? 

Winif.  Well,  unless  my  eyes  deceived  me - 

Krink.  They  did— for  ’twas  not  him  that  I  invoked — ’twas  not  to  him 
1  knelt— no,  I  bowed  to  glorious  liberty — I  am  still  ready  to  die  for  lib¬ 
erty. 

Winif.  Art  thou  1  then  thou  shalt  have  no  liberty  for  a  month. 

Krink.  No  !  then  thou  art  too  free  altogether  ;  and  when  you  talk  of 
the  liberty  to  abridge  my  liberty,  1  must  take  the  liberty  to  observe  that 
it  is  a  liberty  I  shall  not  allow,  (she  boxes  his  ears — he  dodges  her ,  and  runs 
of,  r. — Winifred  follows  beating  him.) 

Scene  changes  to 

SCENE  V. — Chamber  in  the  Tower,  in  2 i  grooves.  Two-thirds  of  the  flats 
are  covered  by  large  black  curtains  to  discover  the  3 rd  and  4:th  E — door, 
R.  D.  E. — table  and  chair,  l. — lamp,  large  open  book,  and  writing  mate¬ 
rials. 

Catherine  is  discovered,  kneeling  on  hassock,  her  face  hid  on  her  arms,  which 
are  spread  upon  the  table ,  Clock  begins  to  strike  five — at  the  third  stroke, 
Catherine  raises  her  head,  and  begins  to  count.  She  is  dressed  in  plain 
black,  her  hair  is  dishevelled,  and  she  is  deadly  pale. 

Catii.  Three— four— five !  Five  o’clock  !  Another  hour  and  I  am 
dust ;  and  to-morrow  tire  sun  will  rise  upon  my  grave.  So  young,  yet  I 
have  but  to  extend  my  arm,  to  reach  eternity — to  die,  to  die  !  Oh, 
Heaven  !  wilt  thou  leave  me  thus  to  perish  1  ( rising )  Oh,  if  the  king 
would  but  pardon  me!  and  suffer  tne  to  return  to  the  retreat  from 
whence  he  drew  me.  Oh,  that  I  were  but  permitted  to  kneel  and  weep  to 
him,  surely  he  would  have  compassion— surely  he  would  spare  me.  I 
must  see  him.  i producing  diamond  ring)  My  last  hope— all  that  is  left  to 
me  of  my  queenly  fortune — oh.  come  thou  to  my  aid  !  And  the  time  is 
passing — the  moments  fly  !  How  long  is’t  since  it  was  five  o’clock  1  I 
can  no  longer  measure  the  hours — my  senses  are  bewildered. 

She  sinks  into  chair ,  her  hands  pressed  upon  her  forehead — she  starts,  fixes 
her  eyes  on  d.  r.  u.  e.,  it  slowly  opens — the  Executioner  enters,  takes 
a  step  or  two  within  the  door,  and  then  sinks  on  his  knee  —Catherine, 
on  his  entrance,  has  started  to  her  feet ,  and  is  now  clinging  with  one 
hand  to  the  table. 

Exe.  You  know,  madam,  who  I  am  ? 

Cath.  I  fear  so.  You  are — you  are — (unable  to  finish.) 

Exe.  Yes. 

Cath.  Why  do  you  kneel? 

Exe.  I  come,  according  to  custom,  to  ask  forgiveness. 

Catu.  Oh,  mockery  !  The  deathsman  asks  pardon  of  the  victim  he  is 
slay. 


ACT  111. 


07 


O  l 


Exe.  I  must  porform  my  duty,  madam. 

Oath.  ( looking  at  diamond,  which  she  has  placed  on  her  finger ).  Think 
you  not  that  yours  is  a  horrib.e  nude  ! 

Exe.  (rising).  Horrible  ! 

Catii.  Why,  theu,  do  you  follow  it? 

Exe.  Because  iny  graudsirc  bequeathed  it  to  my  father,  and  it  was 
my  father's  legacy  to  me. 

Cath.  Then  you  abhor  the  trade  ? 

Exe.  1  have  known  the  time  that  I  would  have  given  half  my  life  to 
have  been  permitted  to  embrace  another 

Catii.  And  since - 

Exe.  I  have  found  it  necessary  to  harden  ray  nature  to  it. 

Catii.  There  is,  in  London,  no  other  of  your  calling  ? 

Exe.  No  other,  madam. 

Catii.  And,  were  you  to  quit  the  city,  no  one  could  replace  you. 

Exe.  No  oue,  madam. 

Cath.  And  they  would  be  forced  to  send  to  Calais,  for - 

Exe.  Yes,  as  they  did  for  Queen  Anne,  as  1  could  have  wished  that 
they  have  done  for  you. 

CATn.  And  a  respite  of  three  or  four  days  thus  would  be  obtained. 

Exe.  Undoubtedly. 

Cath.  (to  herself).  During  which  I  should  be  able  to  see  the  king,  or 
if  not  see,  write  to  him,  and  perchance  obtain  my  nardon.  ( going  to 
Executioner)  My  friend,  you  must  quit  London. 

Exe.  Impossible. 

Catii.  Wherefore  ? 

Exe.  Who  would  support  iry  wife  and  children? 

Cath.  But,  if  I  made  yo-u  rich  ? 

Exe.  Rich  ! 

Cath.  What  is  your  yearly  recompense  for  this - 

Exe.  Twenty  pounds. 

Catii.  Look  at  this  ring. 

Exe.  Well 

Catii.  It  is  worth  a  thousand  pounds—  a  sum  that  it  would  take  you 
twenty  years  to  win.  You  may  if  yen  choose  possess  this  ring. 

Exe.  But  to  earn  it,  what  would  be  required  of  me? 

Cath.  To  fly— that  is  all;  1  do  not  ask  you  to  save  me,  that  I  know 
you  could  not  do  ;  but  with  your  wife  arid  children  instantly  depart  and 
quit  the  kingdom.  No  one  would  lecognize  you — you  would  no  longer 
return  home  with  hands  reddened  with  blend,  and  the  infamy  bequeathed 
to  you  by  your  fa: her  would  not  descend  unto  your  son. 

Exe.  I  need  not  run  so  treat  risk  to  obtain  that  ring,  for  it  will  belong 
to  me — everything  worn  by  the  condemned  is  my  inheritance. 

Cath.  But  I  would  give  this  ring  to  cue  of  my  women. 

Exe.  You  will  no  more  behold  them. 

Cath  From  the  scaffold  I  could  proclaim  its  worth,  and  cast  it  amid-t 
the  crowd. 

Exe.  1  could  snatch  it  from  you,  here. 

Cath.  Look!  (holding  ring  to  her  mouth).  Even  that  attempt  would  fail 
you. 

Exe.  And  that  ring,  madam,  is  really  worth  a  thousand  pounds  ?  you 
swear  it  ? 

Cath.  (placing  her  hand  on  open  look  which  lies  on  table).  I  swear  it  on 
this  sacred  volume. 

Exe.  Give  it  to  me,  and  I  go. 

Cath.  And  by  what  oath  w  ill  you  assure  me  of  your  departure  ? 

Exe  I  swear,  madam,  by  the  life  of  my  youngest  child — and  may 


38 


CATHERINE  HOWARD. 


Heaven  crush  me  if  1  do  not  fulfill  my  oath — that  on  the  instant  I  re¬ 
ceive  that  ring,  I  will  quit  London,  and  never  again  return. 

Catu.  {givu/g  ring).  Take  it,  then,  and  fly.  (Executioner  hurries  off, 
d.  r.  u.  e.  Catherine  sinking  on  her  knees )  Oh,  Heaven,  I  thank  thee, 
for  I  believe  thou  hast  at  last  had  pity  on  me. 

Enter  Archbishop  Cranmer,  d.  r.  u.  e. 

Cran.  I  am  glad,  my  child,  to  find  you  in  that  humble  posture,  since 
you  have  now  but  half  an  hour  to  live. 

Cath.  (rising).  Ah  !  (aside)  but  he  knows  not — no,  no — ( smiling )  he 
does  not  know. 

Cran.  My  child,  what  strange  thoughts  occupy  your  mind,  that  they 
at  such  a  fearful  moment  can  cause  you  to  smile  1 

Cath.  Father,  you  must  procure  me  access  to  the  king. 

Cran.  Impossible,  madam  !  the  execution  is  fixed  for  six  o’clock,  and 
it  is  now  so  near  the  hour  that - 

Catii.  But  if  that  execution  should  not  take  place  ! 

Cran.  ( shaking  his  head).  My  child  ! 

Cath.  You  will  never  reveal  what  now  I  am  about  to  utter? 

Cran.  Oh,  never  ! 

Cath.  ( leaning  on  his  shoulder  and  speaking  in  a  subdued  tone).  There 
can  be  no  execution  without  an  executioner — and  he  has  fled !  (in  a  still 
lower  tone)  even  while  now  we  speak,  he  has  quitted  London. 

Cran.  How  very  strange  ! 

Cath.  Hark  !  ( murmurs  without.) 

Cran.  It  is  the  crowd  assembled  before  the  scaffold. 

Cath.  Ah!  they  will  lose  their  expected  sport.  I  will  now  write  to 
the  king!  you  promise  that  you  will  deliver  him  my  letter? 

Lieutenant  of  Tower  enters  d  r.  u.  e- — several  Persons  look  anxiousij 

'll. 

What  would  you  ! 

Lieut.  Pardon,  m  dam,  but — (tooling  clout) — he  is  not  here! 

Cath.  (aside).  They  will  not  find  him — he  has  kept  his  word. 

Cran.  (to  Catherine).  Heaven  protect  you,  my  child,  (to  Lieu 
tenant)  You  seek - 

Lieut.  The  executioner,  fori  could  not  believe  that  he  had  fled.  (tram. 

pets  heard  without.) 

Cath.  (clinging  to  Cranmer).  What  is  that? 

Lieut.  A  proclamation  that  if,  for  the  present  occasion,  anyone  will 
volunteer  to  supply  the  place  of  the  missing  executioner,  he  shall  receive 
the  sum  of  twenty  pounds,  and  be  permitted  to  conceal  his  features  be. 
Death  a  mask,  (trumpet  'sounds  again,  more  distant — Lieutenant  goes  oJf\ 
D.  r.  u.  e.,  door  is  closed.) 

Cath.  But  there  cannot  under  heaven,  be  found  a  wretch  sufficiently 
vile  to  undertake  the  o  ,t  some  mission! 

Cran.  1  hope  not,  my  child. 

Cath.  Let  me  instant  v  write  to  the  king,  (sits  at  fall)  Tell  me,  my 
lord,  what  I  must  say  to  him,  for  my  brain  is  wandering. 

—  Cran.  Write  the  language  of  truth,  and  heaven  permit  it  to  soften 
the  king’s  heart ! 

Cath.  Oh,  no  one  will  offer — no  one  would  perform  the  horrible  task 
— ’twould  be  a  hideous  assassinat'd). 

Cram.  (c.).  Write,  madam,  write. 

Cath  (writing).  “  Henry — with  my  foot  upon  the  scaffold,  by  the 
light  of  a  last  ray  of  hope  do  I — ” 


ACT  III.  39 

Suddenly  stopping,  grasping  Cranmer’s  robe  and  pointing  to  a  Man,  who 

enters,  masked,  d.  r.  u.  e. 

Look  there,  my  lord — ( with  great  terror )  Look  there  l  ( rising  and  retreat¬ 
ing)  It  is  he  —it  is  he  ! 

Athel.  ( masked ,  having  advanced  slowly  to  l.  C.  as  she  recoils,  passing 
with  her  back  to  the  audience  to  it.  c.)  Madam,  are  you  prepared? 

Catji.  It  is  his  voice — his  accursed  voice  !  How  came  1  to  forget  him  ? 
(to  Cranmf.r)  Ah,  my  lord,  I  am  lost!  ( passes  to  the  other  side  o^’Cran- 
mer — clinging  to  him)  I  am  lost. 

Cran.  Entreat  this  man  to  have  pity  on  you,  my  child. 

Cath-  Pity  from  him  ?  as  well  expect  it  from  the  block  on  which  I  am 
about  to  place  my  head. 

Cran.  You  know  him,  then  I  {she  shudders.) 

Athel.  Oh,  yes! — You  know  me,  Catherine,  do  you  not?  you  re¬ 
member,  “  the  destiny  of  both  of  us  must  be  accomplished.”  Confess 
to  the  holy  father  that  you  deserve  your  punishment— that  once  to  die 
is  insufficient  for  your  crimes — and  that  you  have  merited  a  thousand 
deaths.  Hasten,  madam,  for  it  is  the  hour  of  your  doom— and  the  heads¬ 
man  awaits  his  victim,  (he  passes  out  through  curtains,  c.) 

Cran.  My  daughter ! 

Cath.  Yes,  my  lord,  yes— I  am  indeed  a  guilty  wretch — think  y or. 
that  Heaven  will  pardon  me  ? 

Cran.  Hope,  child,  for  infinite  is  its  mercy. 

Four  Maids  of  Honor  dressed  in  black  enter  d.  r.  u.  e.,  and  comes  slowly 

forward, 

Cath.  (to  them).  I  did  not  think  that  I  should  see  you  once  again. 
Would  that  I  was  able  to  bequeath  you  something  in  remembrance  of 
your  queen  ;  but  poor,  I  mounted  to  the  throne,  and  poor  indeed  do  1 
descend  therefrom — I  have  nothing. 

Ladies  kneel,  two  on  each  side  of  her,  and  weeping ,  kiss  her  hands.  The 
first  stroke  of  six  o  clock  is  heard — she  shudders,  and  staggers  back  a  pace 
or  two — the  Ladies  continue  kneeling. 

Cran.  (going  to  Catherine).  Daughter  ! 

Cath.  I  am  ready,  father — I  am  ready. 

Catherine  goes  slowly  off  through  curtains,  supported  by  Ckanmek — the 
clock  continues  striking,  and  after  the  last  stroke  of  six,  a  short  pause — 
then  a  dull  heavy  sound ,  as  of  the  axe  falling — confused  murmurs — the 
black  curtains  are  suddenly  drawn  aside,  and  discover  a  raised  scaffold ,  in 
u.  e.  with  steps  leading  to  it  from  the  stage — on  each  side  of  the  steps, 
Guards,  with  halberts  and  torches — on  scaffold,  the  body  of  Catherine 
covered  with  a  pall— Cranmer  kneeling,  and  Atiielwolp  upright,  his 
hand  upon  the  handle  of  the  axe — in  the  distance,  painted  on  a  drov. 
Tower  Hill  and  Spectators. 

The  Lieutenant  Officers  advance  slowly  on  each  side  from  the  back 

— pause . 

Athel.  The  law  condemned  alike  the  guilty  woman  and  her  accom¬ 
plice,  and — that  the  sentence  may  be  fully  executed — to  your  hands  I 
now  oive  that  accomplice,  (casting  aside  axe,  and  tearing  mask  from  his 
face)  Behold  him  !  arrest  him  ;  kill  him!  Ills  mission  in  life  is  done 


40 


CATHERINE  HOWARD 


— hia  outraged  love  and  honor  are  revenged,  and  now — welcome  !  oh, 
welcome  death  to  the  last  Nothumberland  ! 

Two  Officers  rush  on  to  scaffold  and  secure  Athelwold — at  same  time t 
general  exclaimation  of  “  Athelwold  !  ”  Grand  tableau  and 

CURTAIN. 


PROGRAMME  OF  SCENERY  AND  INCIDENTS. 

(For  Small  Bills,  etc.) 

ACT  I. — Scene  Is/!. — The  old  palace  of  Blackfriars.  The  king  reveals  his  passion  for 
the  obscure  beauty,  and  confides  to  Athelwold  hia  design  of  taking  a  fifth  wife  - 
the  alchemist  and  the  noble— the  philtre. 

Scene  2d.— The  secluded  dwelling  of  Catherine  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames.  Ambi¬ 
tious  aspirations  of  the  cottage  girl— the  earl  and  his  secret— desperate  resolve 
of  Athelwold  to  preserve  hia  honor  and  his  love,  and  he  administers  the  draught 
of  seeming  death. 

ACT  II. — Scene  1st.— The  vaults  of  the  chapel  reserved  for  the  burial  of  the  House 
of  Northumberland.  The  lifeless  form  of  Catherine  entombed  in  a  noble  grave  — 
the  husband’s  visit,  and  the  lover’s  pilgrimage—  peril  of  the  king — “  if  she  wakes, 
he  dies” — Henry  departs— the  secret  safe. 

Scene  2d.— A  street  in  old  London.  The  tippler  and  his  purse — the  gray  mare  tbo 
better  horse. 

Scene  3d. — Reception  chamber  in  Northumberland-house,  looking  on  the  village  of 
Charing.  The  earl  and  his  lady— the  secret  revealed  to  Catherine — love,  resent¬ 
ment  and  ambition,  which  shall  be  conqueror  ?— a  monarch’s  anger— desperate 
resource— the  fatal  vial  drained — the  earl’s  trust  betrayed,  and  he  is  consigned 
from  seeming  to  certain  death. 

ACT  III. — Scene  1st. — Throne  room  of  the  palace.  Grief  of  the  princess— remorse 
of  Henry — the  second  key— arrival  of  the  veiled  lady— Catherine  living  !— trans¬ 
port  of  the  king — the  first  step  of  the  throne— the  spectre  from  the  silent  sepul¬ 
chre — conscience  avaunt !— ambition  rewarded  — Catherine  Howard  Queen  of 
England. 

Scene  2d,— High  treason — Krinkly  in  trouble — his  presence  of  mind  and  Roman  for¬ 
titude— without  a  sigh  he  sacrifices  his  friend  to  save  himself. 

Scene  3d.— Chamber  of  the  queen.  The  serpent  in  the  “  golden  round  of  sovereign¬ 
ty  ’’—useless  remorse— the  avenger  comes— how  poor  ambition  seems  when 
weighed  against  content  and  love — the  king’s  return— again  betrayed  !— the 
doom  of  Anne  Boleyn  upon  the  hapless  Catherine. 

Scene  ith. — Martin  again  in  trouble— he  is  given  over  to  safe  keeping,  and  receives 
striking  proofs  of  his  wife’s  attachment. 

Scene  5th.— “  That  ends  this  strange,  eventful  history  ’’—The  Tower— Catherine’s  last 
hour  arrives — a  ray  of  hope — the  exeeuti'oner  bought— his  flight,  and  hope’s 
bright  dawn  again — proclamation  for  a  headsman — the  avenger  comes — the  doom 
accomplished,  and  Catherine  Howard  dies  upon  the  block. 


STAGE  DIRECTIONS. 

R.  means  Right  of  Stage,  facing  the  Audience  ;  L.  Left;  C.  Centre;  R.  C.  Right 
of  Centre ;  L.  C.  Left  of  Centre.  D.  F.  Door  in  the  Flat,  or  Scene  running  across 
the  back  of  the  Stage ;  C.  D.  F.  Centre  Door  in  the  Flat ;  R.  D.  F.  Right  Door  in 
the  Flat ;  L.  C.  F.  Left  Door  in  the  Flat ;  R.  D.  Right  Door ;  L.  D.  Left  Door ;  1  E. 
First  Entrance ;  2  E.  Second  Entrance ;  U.  E.  Upper  Entrance  ;  1,  2  or  3  G.  First, 
Second  or  Third  Groove. 

R.  R.  C.  C.  L.  C. 

The  reader  is  supposed  to  be  upon  the  stage  facing  the  audience. 


L. 


i 


I)E  WITT’S  ACTING  PLAYS. 


^3*  Please  notice  that  nearly  all  the  Comedies,  Farces  and  Comediettas  in  tho  following 
’Jtilat  of  “  De  Witt’s  Acting  Plays  ”  are  very  suitable  for  representation  in  small  Amateur 
Rheatres  and  on  Parlor  Stages,  as  they  need  but  little  extrinsic  aid  from  complex  scenery 
©t  expensive  costumes.  They  have  attained  their  deserved  popularity  by  their  droll  situa¬ 
tions,  excellent  plots,  great  humor  and  brilliant  dialogues,  no  less  than  by  the  fact  that 
they  are  the  most  perfect  in  every  respect  of  any  edition  of  plays  ever  published  either  in 
the  United  States  or  Europe,  whether  as  regards  purity  of  text,  accuracy  and  fullness  of 
stage  directions  and  scenery,  or  elegance  of  typography  and  clearness  of  printing. 

In  ordering  please  copy  the  figures  at  the  commencement  of  each  piece,  which 
indicate  the  number  of  the  piece  in  “  De  Witt's  List  of  Acting  Plays.” 

jtjQT  Any  of  the  following  Plays  sent,  postage  free,  on  receipt  of  price — Fifteen  Cents 
each. 

A3"  The  figure  following  the  name  of  the  Play  denotes  the  number  of  Acts.  The 
agurfeb  in  tht  columns  indicate  the  number  of  characters — M.  male:  F.  female. 


M.  F. 

75.  Adrienne,  dram*\  2  acts . .  7  3 

231.  Ail  that  Glitters  n  not  Gold,  comic 

drama,  2  acts .  6  3 

108,  All  on  Account  of  a  Bracelet,  come¬ 
dietta,  1  act .  2  2 

114.  Anything  for  a  Change, comedy.l  act  3  3 
167.  Apple  Blossoms,  comedy,  3  acts.  ..7  3 

93.  Area  Belle,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

).  Atchi,  comedietta,  1  act . 3  2 

89.  Aunt  Charlotte’s  Maid,  farce,  1  act.  3  3 
158.  Aunt  Dinah’s  Pledge,  temperance 

drama,  2  acts .  6  3 

187.  Bachelor’s  Box  (La  Petite  Hotel), 

comedietta,  1  act .  4  1 

1  t>o.  Bar  dell  vs.  Pickwick,  sketch,  1  act.  6  2 
310.  Barrack  Room  (The),  comedietta, 2a.  6  2 

41.  Beautiful  Forever,  farce,  1  act .  2  2 

_41.  Bells  (The),  qrama,  3  acts . 9  3 

123.  Betsey  Baker,  farce,  1  act . 2  2 

/'7.  Birthplace  of  Podgers,  farce,  1  act..  7  3 

j6.  Black  Sheep,  drama,  3  acts  ...  - 7  5 

279.  Black-Eyed  Susan,  drama.  2  acts. .  .14  2 

296.  Black  and  White,  drama,  3  acts _ 6  3 

lOO.  Blow  for  Blow,  drama,  4  acts . 11  6 

*  179.  Breach  of  Promise,  drama,  2  acts . .  5  2 

25.  Broken-Hearted  Club,  comedietta. .  4  8 

70.  Bonnie  Fish  Wife,  farce,  1  act .  3  1 

261.  Bottle  (The),  drama,  2  acts . 11  6 

226.  Box  and  Cox,  Romance,^  act . 2  1 

r)  24.  Cabman  No.  93,  farce,  1  act . 2  2 

199.  Captain  of  the  Watch,  comedietta, 

1  act . 6  2 

1.  Caste,  comedy,  3  acts .  5  3 

)75,  Cast  upon  the  World,  drama,  5  acts. 11  5 
55,  Catharine  Howard,  historical  play, 

3  acts . 12  5 

62.  Caught  by  the  Cuff,  farce,  1  act _  4  1 

80.  Charming  Pair,  farce,  1  act .  4  3 

6a.  Checkmate,  comedy,  2  acts . 6  5 

68.  Chevalier  de  St.  George,  drama,  3a.  9  3 
119.  Chimney;  Corner  (The),  domestic 

drama,  3  acts . .  5  2 

76.  Chops  of  the  Channel,  farce,  1  act..  3  2 
*5.  Circumstances  alter  Cases,  comic 

operetta,  1  act . 1  1 

V*9.  Clouds,  comedy,  4  acts .  8  7 

Kil.  Comical  Countess,  farce,  1  act .  3  1 


M.  F. 

222.  Cool  as  a  Cucumber,  farce,  1  act _  3  2 

248.  Cricket  on  the  Hearth,  drama,  3  acts  8  6 


107.  Cupboard  Love,  farce,  1  act .  2  1 

152.  Cupid’s  Eye-Glass,  comedy,  1  act..  1  1 

52.  Cup  of  Tea,  comedietta,  1  act .  3  1 

148.  Cut  Off  with  a  Shilling,  comedietta, 

1  act .  2  3 

113.  Cyril’s  Success,  comedy,  5  acts _ 10  4 

20.  Daddy  Gray,  drama,  3  acts .  8  4 

286.  Daisy  Farm,  drama,  4  acts . 10  < 

4.  Dandelion’s  Dodges,  farce,  1  act...  4  2 
22.  David  Garrick,  comedy,  3  acts . 8  S 


275.  Day  After  the  Wedding,  farce,  1  act  4  2 
96.  Dearest  Mamma,  comedietta,  1  act..  4  3 
16.  Dearer  than  Life,  drama,  3  acts....  6  5 
58.  Deborah  (Leah),  drama,  3  acts . 7  6 


125.  Deerfoot,  farce,  1  act . . .  5  1 

71.  Doing  for  the  Best,  drama,  2  acts..  5  3 
142.  Dollars  and  Cents,  comedy,  3  acts. .  9  4 
204.  Drawing  Room  Car(A).comedy,l  act  2  7 

21.  Dreams,  d-vama,  5  acts .  6  3 

260.  Drunkard’s  Warning,  drama,  3  acts  6  3 
240.  Drunkard’s  Doom  (The),  drama,  2a.l5  5 

263.  Drunkard  (The),  drama,  5  acts . 13  5 

186.  Duchess  de  la  Vallier?,play,  5  acts..  6  4 

242.  Dumb  Belle  (The),  farce,  1  act .  4  2 

47.  Easy  Shaving,  farce,  1  act. . . f  1 

283.  E.  C.  B.  Susan  Jane,  musical  bur¬ 
lesque,  1  act .  I  J 

202.  Eileen  Oge,  Irish  drama,  4  acts . 11  3 

315.  Electric  Love,  farce,  1  act . .  1  1 

297.  English  Gentleman  (An),  comedy- 

drama,  4  acts .  7  4 

200.  Estranged,  operetta,  1  act  .  2  t 


135.  Everybody's  Friend,  comedy,  3  acts  6  5* 
230.  Family  Jars,  musical  farce,  2  acts..  5  ft 
103.  Faust  and  Marguerite,  drama,  3  acts  9 
9.  Fearful  Tragedy  in  the  Seven  Dials, 


- - - '  - 

interlude,  1  act . . .  4  A 

128.  Female  Detective,  drama,  3  acts _ 11  4 

101.  Fernande,  drama,  3  acts . 11 

99.  Fifth  Wheel,  comedy,  3  acts . iO  % 

262,  Fifteen  Years  of  a  Drunkard’s  Life, 

melodrama,  3  acts . 13  4 

145.  First  Love,  comedy,  1  act . 4  l 

102.  Foiled,  drama..  4  acts . -  9  $ 

88.  Founded  on  Facts,  three,  1  act . 4  v 


DE  WITT’S  ACTING  PLAYS -Continued 


'  M.  F. 

Fruits  of  the  Wine  Cup,  drama,  3  cts  6  3 
102.  flame  of  Cards  (A),  comedietta,  la..  3  1 

74.  Garrick  Fever,  farce,  1  act .  7  4 

53.  Gertrude’s  Money  Box,  farce,  1  act.  4  2 
73.  Gulden  Fetters  (Fettered), drama,  3.11  4 
30.  Goose  with  the  Golden  Eggs,  farce, 

}  act .  6  3 

131.  Gc  to  Putney,  farce,  1  act .  4  3 

276.  Gojd  lor  Nothing,  comic  drama,  la.  5  1 
306.  Great  Success  (A),  comedy,  3  acts..  8  6 

277.  Grimshaw,  Bagshaw  and  Bradshaw, 

farce,  1  act . 4  2 

206.  Heir  Apparent  (The),  farce,  1  act. . .  5  1 

241.  Handy  Andy,  drama,  2  acts . 10  3 

28.  Happy  Pair,  comedietta,  1  act .  1  1 

151.  Hard  Case  (A),  farce,  1  act .  2 

8.  Henry  Dunbar,  drama,  4  acts . 10  3 

180.  Henry  the  Fifth,  hist,  play,  5  acts.  .38  5 
03.  Hei  Only  Fault,  comedietta,  1  act..  2  2 

19.  Heh  a  Lunatic,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

50.  Hidden  Hand,  drama,  4  acts . 5  5 

.91.  High  o',  comedietta,  1  act . 3  3 

j46.  High  Life  Below  Stairs, farce, 2  acts.  9  5 

301.  Hir_ko,  romantic  drama,  6  acts . 12  7 

124.  Hit  Last  Legs,  farce,  2  acts . 5  3 

18 7.  Hit  Own  Enemy,  farce,  1  act .  5  1 

174.  Home,  comedy.  3  acts . 4  3 

211.  Honesty  is  the  Best  Policy,  play,  1.  2 

64.  Household  Fairy,  sketch,  1  act .  1  1 

190.  Hunting  the  Slippers,  farce,  1  act..  4  1 

197.  Hunchback  (The),  play,  5  acts . 13  2 

225.  Ici  on  Parle  Francais,  farce,  lact...  3  4 
'52.  Idiot  Witness,  melodrama,  3  acts...  6  1 
18.  If  I  had  a  Thousand  a  Year,  farce,  14  3 
116.  I’m  not  Mesilf  at  all,  Irish  stew,  la.  3  2 

129.  In  for  a  Holiday,  farce,  1  act. .  2  3 

159.  In  the  Wrong  House,  farce,  1  acr...  4  2 

278.  Irish  Attorney  (The),  farce,  2  acts..  8  2 
182.  Irish  Broom  Maker,  farce,  1  act. ...  9  3 
273.  Irishman  in  London,  farce,  1  acts. .  6  3 

£43.  Irish  Lion  (The),  farce,  1  act .  8  3 

171.  Irish  Post  (The),  drama,  1  act .  9  3 

-<14.  Irish  Tutor  (The),  farce,  1  act .  5  2 

70.  Irish  Tiger  (The),  farce,  1  act .  5  1 

J74.  Irish  Widow  (The),  farce,  2  acts _  7  1 

122.  Isabella  Orsini,  drama,  4  acts . 11  4 

177.  I  Shall  Invite  the  Major,  comedy,  14  1 

100.  Jack  Long,  drama,  2  acts . 9  2 

299.  Joan  of  Arc,  hist,  play,  5  acts . 26  6 

139.  Joy  is  Dangerous,  comedy,  2  acts..  3  3 
17.  Kind  to  a  Fault,  comedy,  2  acts. ...  6  4 

533.  Kiss  in  the  Dark  (A),  farce,  1  act _  2  3 

3\)9.  Ladies’  Battle  (The),  comedy,  3  acts  7  2 

86.  Lady  of  Lyons,  play,  5  acts . 12  5 

137.  L’ Article  47,  draffha,  3  acts . 11  5 

7*2.  Lame  Excuse,  farce,  1  act .  4  2 

144.  Lancashire  Lass,  melodrama, 4  acts.  12  3 
34.  Larkins’  Love  Letters,  farce,  1  act.. 3  2i 

189.  Leap  Year,  musical  duality,  1  act _ 1  1  \ 

153.  Lend  Me  Five  Shillings,  farce,  1  act  5  3 

111.  Liar  (The),  comedy,  2  acts . 7  2 

119.  Life  Chase,  drama,  5  acts . 14  5 

239.  Limerick  Boy  (The),  farce,  1  act -  5  2 

48.  Little  Annie’s  Birthday,  farce,  1  act.. 2  4 

32.  Little  Rebel,  farce,  1  act .  4  3 

164.  Little  Ruby,  drama,  3  acts .  6  6 

295.  Little  Em’iy,  drama,  4  acts .  8  8 

165.  Living  Statue  (Tbe),  farce,  1  act....  3  2 
2‘18.  Loan  of  a  Lover  'Tbe*>  vaudeville,!.  4  1 


109.  Locked  in,  comedietta,  1  act .  1  2 

85.  Locked  in  with  a  Lady,  sketch .  1  4 

87.  Locked  Out,  comic  scene .  ]  | 

143.  Lodgers  and  Dodgers,  Jarce,  1  act..  4  1 
212.  London  Assurance,  comedy,  5  acts.  10  3 

291.  M.  P.,  comedy,  4  acts .  7  2 

210.  Mabel’s  Manoeuvre,  interlude,  1  act  1  3 

163.  Marcoretti,  drama,  3  acts . 10  3 

154.  Maria  and  Magdalena,  play,  4  acts..  8  6 
63.  Marriage  at  any  Price,  farce,  1  act. .  5  3 

249.  Marriage  a  Lottery,  comedy,  2  acts.  3  4 
208.  Married  Bachelors,  comedietta,  la..  3  2 

39  Master  Jones’  Birthday,  farce,  1  act  4  2 

7  Maud’s  Peril,  drama,  4  acts .  6  £ 

49  Midnight  Watch,  drama,  1  act . 8  St 

15  Milky  White,  drama,  2  acts .  4  2 

46  Miriam’s  Crime,  drama,  3  acts . 5  2 

61  Model  of  a  Wife,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

302.  Model  Pair  (A),  comedy,  1  act .  2  2 

184.  Money,  comedy,  5  acts .  17  3 

250.  More  Blunders  thau  One,  farce,  la.  4  ■ 
312.  More  Sinned  against  thau  Sinning, 

original  Irish  drama,  4  acts . 11 

234.  Morning  Call  (A),  comedietta,  1  act.  1  1 

108.  Mr.  Scroggins,  farce,  1  act . 3  1 

188.  Mr  X.,  farce,  1  act . 3  3 

169,  My  Uncle’s  Suit,  farce,  1  act . 4  1 

216.  Mj  Neighbor’s  Wife,  farce,  1  act.... 3  3 

236.  My  Turn  Next,  farce,  1  act . 4  3 

193.  My  Walking  Photograph,  musical 

duality,  1  act .  1  1 

267.  My  Wife’s  Bonnet,  farce,  1  act . 3  4 

130.  My  Wife’s  Diary,  farce,  1  act .  3  J 

92.  M3  Wife’s  Out,  farce,  1  act . 2 

218.  Naval  Engagements,  farce,  2  acts. . .  4  _ 
140,  Never  Reckon  your  Chickens,  etc., 

farce.  I  act .  3  4 

115.  New  Mer-  and  Old  Acres,  comedy,  3  8  8 

2.  Nobody’s  Child,  drama,  3  acts . 18  3 

57.  Noemie,  drama,  2  acts... .  4  4 

104.  No  Name,  drama,  5  acts .  7  5 

112.  Not  a  bit  Jealous,  iarce,  1  act . 3  3 

298.  Not  if  I  Know  it,  tarce,  1  act .  4  4 

185.  Not  so  bad  at  we  Seem,  play,  5  acts.13  3 

84.  Not  Guilty,  drama,  4  acts . 10  (. 

117.  Not  such  a  Fool  as  he  Looks,  drama, 

3  acts .  5  4 

171.  Nothing  like  Parte,  farce,  1  act _  3  1 

14.  No  Thoroughfare,  drama,  5  acts _ 13  6 

300.  Notre  Dame:  drama.  3  acts . 11  8 

269.  Object  of  Interest  vAn).  farce,  1  act.  4  3 

268.  Obstinate  Family  (The),  farce,  1  act.  3  3 

173.  Off  the  Stage,  comedietta,  1  act _  3  3 

227.  Omnibus  (The),  farce,  1  act. . .  .  ..  8  4 
176.  On  Bread  and  Water,  farce,  lact...  1  2 
264.  One  Too  Many,  fa^ce,  J  act .  4  2 

•‘43.  One  Too  Many  for  Him  farce,  1  act  2  3 

$.  £100,000,  comedy,  3acU’ .  8  4 

^0.  Only  a  Halfpenny,  farce,  1  act .  2  2 

170.  Only  Somebody,  farce,  1  act .  4  2 

289.  On  the  Jury,  drama,  4  acts .  5  <* 

97.  Orange  Blossoms,  comedietta.  1  act  3  5 

66.  Orange  Girl,  drama.  4  acts . .  .18  4 

209.  Othello,  tragedy,  5  acts . 16  £ 

172.  Ours,  comedy,  3  acts . 

94.  Our  Clerks,  farce,  1  act  .  7  € 

45.  Our  Domestics,  comedy- farce  f  a^s  (i  v\ 

155.  Our  Heroes,  military  play,  6  actB.  .24  5 
178.  Out  at  Sea,  drama,  5  acts . .  .-47  6 


DE  WITT’S  ACTING  PLAYS  -Continued. 


M.  F. 

147.  Overlaud  Route,  comedy,  3  acts...  .11  5 
805.  1'air  of  Shoes  (A),  farce,  1  act.. ...... .4  3 

235.  Partners  for  Life,  comedy,  3  acts. . . .  7  4 

156.  Peace  at  any  Price,  farce,  1  act . 1  1 

82.  Peep  o’  Lay,  drama,  4  acts . 12  4 

11 7.  Peggy  Green,  farce,  1  act . 3  10 

23.  Petticoat  Parliament,  extravagauza, 

1  act . 15  21 

293.  Philomel,  romantic  drama,  3  acts...  G  4 

62.  Photographic  I*’ix,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

61.  Plot  and  Passion,  drama,  3  acts.  ...  7  2 
138.  Poll  and  Partner  Joe,  burlesqe,  la..  10  3 

217.  Poor  Pillicoddy,  farce,  1  act .  2  3 

HO.  Poppleton’s  Predicaments,  farce,  la.  3  6 

50.  Porter’s  Knot,  drama,  2  acts .  8  2 

59.  Post  Boy,  drama.  2  acts .  5  3 

95.  Pretty  Horse-Breaker,  farce .  3  10 

?80.  Pretty  Piece  of  Business  (A),  come¬ 
dy,  1  act .  2  3 

181.  182.  Queen  Mary,  drama,  4  acts. . .  .37  9 
196.  Queerest  Courtship  (The),  comic 

operetta,  1  act .  1  1 

255.  Quiet  Family,  farce,  1  act . 4  4 

157.  Quite  at  Home,  comedietta,  1  act. ..  5  2 

132.  Race  for  a  Dinner,  farce,  1  act . 10 

237.  Regular  Fix  (A),  farce,  1  act .  6  4 

183.  Richelieu,  play,  5  acta . 12  2 

38.  Rightful  Heir,  drama,  5  acts . 10  2 

77.  Roll  of  the  Drum,  drama,  3  acts ....  8  4 
316.  Romeo  on  the  Gridiron  (A),  mono- 

•  logue,  for  a  lady .  1 

195.  Rosemi  Shell,  burlesque,  4  scenes..  6  3 
247.  Rough  Diamond  (The),  farce,  1  act.  6  3 

194.  Rum,  drama,  3  acts .  7  4 

13.  Ruy  Bias,  drama,  4  acts . 12  4 

229.  Sarah’s  Young  Man,  farce,  1  act. ...  3  3 

158.  School,  comedy,  4  acts, .  6  6 

201.  School  for  Scandal,  comedy,  5  acts. .13  4 

264.  Scrap  of  Paper  (A),  comic  drama,  3a.  6  6 

79.  Sheep  inWolf’s  Clothing,  drama,  la  7  5 
203.  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  comedy,  5a. 15  4 


37.  Silent  Pi’otector,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

35.  Silent  Woman,  farce,  1  act .  2  1 

J13.  Single  Married  Man  (A),  comic  ope¬ 
retta,  1  act . 6  2 

43.  Sisterly  Service,  comedietta,  1  act..  7  2 
6.  Six  Months  Ago,  comedietta,  1  act..  2  1 
221.  Slasher  and  Crasher,  farce,  1  act...  5  2 


10.  Snapping  Turtles,  duologue,  1  act. ..1  1 

26.  Society,  comedy,  3  acts . 16  5 

1,17.  Sold  Again,  comic  operetta,  1  act...  3  1 

304.  Sparking,  comedietta,  1  act .  1  2 

78.  Special  Performances,  farce,  1  act. .  7  3 
215.  Still  Waters  Run  Deep,  comedy,  3a.  9  2 

256.  Sweethearts,  dramatic  contrast,  2a..  2  2 
232.  Tail  (Tale)  of  a  Shark,  musical  mon¬ 


ologue,  1  scene . . . .  1 

31.  Taming  a  Tiger,  farce,  1  act  .  3 


150.  Tell-Tale  Heart,  comedietta,  1  act..  1  2 
120.  Tempest  in  a  Teapot,  comedy,  1  act  2  1 


v.  i 

257.  Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar  Room,  drama, 

5  acts . . 8  ^ 

146.  There’s  no  Smoke  without  Fire, 

comedietta,  1  act .  1  2 

83.  Thrice  Married,  personation  piece, 

1  act . fl  1 

245.  Thumping  Legacy  (A),  1  act .  7  1 

251.  Ticket  of  Leave  Man,  drama,  4  acts.  9  3 
42.  Time  and  the  Hour,  drama,  3  acts.  7  3 
27.  Time  aud  Tide,  drama,  4  acts .  7  fl 

133.  Timothy  to  the  Rescue,  farce,  1  act  4  2 
15^.  ’Tis  Better  to  Live  than  to  Die, 

farce,  1  act .  2  1 

134.  Tompkins  the  Troubadour,  farce.  1.  3  2 

272.  Toodles  (The),  drama,  2  acts . 10  2 

235.  To  Oblige  Benson,  comedietta,  1  act  3  2 
238.  Trying  It  On,  farce,  1  act . 3  3 

29  Turning  the  Tables,  farce,  1  act.. . .  5  3 

214.  Turn  Him  Out,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

168.  Tweedie’s  Rights,  comedy,  2  acts. .  4  2 

126.  Twice  Killed,  farce,  1  act .  6  3 

234.  ’Twixt  Axe  and  Crown,  play,  5  acts. 24  13 
198.  Twin  Sisters,  comic  operetta.  1  act.  2  2 

265.  Two  Bonnycastles,  farce,  1  act .  3  3 

220.  Two  Buzzards  (The),  farce,  1  act _ 3  ? 

66.  Two  Gay  Deceivers,  face,  1  act .  3 

123.  Two  Polts,  farce,  1  act .  4  4 

288.  Two  Roses  (The),  comedy,  3  acts. . .  7  4 
292.  Two  Thorns  (The),  comedy,  4  acts..  9  4 
294.  Uncle  Dick’s  Darling,  drama,  3  acts  6  5 

162.  Uncle’s  Will,  comedietta,  1  act .  2  1 

106.  Up  for  the  Cattle  Show,  farce,  1  act  6  2 

81.  Vandyke  Brown,  farce,  1  act . 3  3 

317.  Veteran  of  1812  (The),  romantic  mil¬ 
itary  drama,  5  acts . 12  2 

224.  Volunteer  Review,  farce,  1  act .  6  6 

91.  Walpole,  comedy  in  rhyme .  7  2 

118.  Wanted,  a  Young  Lady,  farce,  1  act.  2  1 
2S1.  Wanted,  One  Thousand  Spirited 
Young  Milliners  for  the  Gold  Re¬ 
gions,  farce,  1  act . 3  V 

44.  War  to  to  the  Knife,  comedy,  3  acts  5  4 
311.  What  Tears  can  do,  comedietta,  la..  3  2 
105.  Which  of  the  Two?  comedietta,  la..  2  10 

266.  Who  Killed  Cock  Robin?  farce,  2a..  2  2 

98.  Who  is  Who?  farce . 3  2 

12.  Widow  Hunt,  comedy,  3  acts .  4  4 

213.  Widow  (The),  comedy,  3  acts .  7  6 

5.  William  Tell  with  a  Vengeance,  bur¬ 
lesque  . 8  91 

|  Window  Curtain,  monologue....  *\ 

|  Circumstantial  Evidence  “  _  1 

136.  Woman  in  Red,  drama,  4  acts . 6  8 

161.  Woman’s  Vows  and  Masons’  Oaths, 

<1  ram  a,  4  acts . 10  4 

11.  Woodcock’s  Little  Game,  farce,  2a..  4  4 
290.  Wrong  Man  in  the  Right  Place  (A), 

farce,  1  act .  2  3 

54.  Young  Collegian,  farce,  1  act .  3  2 

■  -  --  . .  < 


A  COMPLETE  DESCRIPTIVE  CATALOGUE  OF  DE  WITT’S  ACT- 
_  *ING  PLAYS  AND  DEWITT’S  ETHIOPIAN  AND  COMIC  DRAMAS,' 
containing  Plot,  Costume,  Scenery,  Time  of  Representation,  and  all  other  informa¬ 
tion,  mailed  free  and  post  paid  on  application.  Address 

DE  ^ITT,  33  Rose  Ner  York. 


!)E  WITT’S  DRAWING-ROOM  OPERETTAS, 


TO  MUSICAL  AMATEURS. 

The  number  of  Musical  Amateurs ,  both  ladies  and  gentlemen,  is  not  only  very 
targe,  but  is  constantly  increasing,  and  very  naturally,  for  there  is  no  more  re - 
fined  and  pleasant  mode  of  spending  leisure  hours  than  in  singing  and  playing  the 
choice  productions  of  the  best  Composers.  Hitherto  there  has  been  an  almost  total 
iack  of  suitable  pieces  adapted  to  an  evening's  entertainment  in  Parlors  by  Amateurs. 
(Df  course  whole  Operas,  or  even  parts  of  Operas,  require  orchestral  accompani¬ 
ments  and  full  choruses  to  give  them  effect,  and  are  therefore  clearly  unfit  for 
Amateur  performance,  while  a  succession  of  songs  lacks  the  interest  given  by  a 
•plot  and  a  contrast  of  characters.  In  this  series  ( a  list  of  which  is  given  below)  vr 
'ha vo  endeavored  to  supply  this  want.  The  best  Music  of  popular  Composers  is  wed¬ 
ded  to  appropriate  words,  and  the  whole  dovetailed  into  plots  that  are  effective  as 
mere  petite  plays,  but  are  rendered  doubly  interesting  by  the  appropriate  and  beau¬ 
tiful  Music ,  specially  arranged  for  them. 


LIST  OF  DE  WITT’S  MUSICAL  PLAYS. 

PRICE  15  CENTS  EACH. 


geap  yeae.  — A  Musical  Dual¬ 
ity.  By  Alfred  B.  Sedgwick.  Mu¬ 
sic  selected  and  adapted  from  Of-, 
fenbach’s  celebrated  Opera,  “  Gene¬ 
vieve  de  Brabant."  One  Male,  one 
Female  Character. 

THE  TWIN  SISTERS  , — Comic 

Operetta,  in  One  Act.  The  Music 
selected  from  the  most  popular  num¬ 
bers  in  Le  Cocq’s  celebrated  Opera 
Bouffc,  “  Girofle  Girofla,"  and  the 
Libretto  written  by  Alfred  B.  Sedg¬ 
wick.  Two  Male,  Two  Female 
Characters. 

%JLD  AGAIN  AND  GOT  THE 

MONEY.— Comic  Operetta,  m  One 
Act.  The  Music  composed  and  the 
Libretto  written  by  Alfred  B.  Sedg¬ 
wick.  Three  Male,  One  Female 
Character. 

THE  QUEEREST  COURTSHIP. 

— Comic  Operetta,  in  One  Act.  The 
Music  arranged  from  Offenbach’s 
celebrated  Opera,  “  La  Princesse  de 
Trebizonde,"  and  the  Libretto  writ¬ 
ten  by  Alfred  B.  Sedgwiqk.  One 
Male,  One  Female  Character. 


ESTRANGED.— An  Operetta,  in 
One  Act,  The  Musie  arranged  from 
Verdi’s  celebrated  Opera,  “  II  Tjw- 
atore."  and  the  Libretto  adapted  by 
Alfred  B.  Sedgwick.  Two  Male, 
One  Female  Character. 

CIROUMST  AN CES  ALTER 

CASES. — Comic  Operetta,  in  Onr 
Act.  The  music  composed  and  the 
Libretto  written  by  Alfred  B.  SedC' 
wick.  One  Male,  One  Female  Char^ 
acter. 

MY  WALKING  PHOTOGRAPH. 

— Musical  Duality,  in  One  Act.  Th( 
Music  arranged  from  Le  Cocq’s 
Opera,  “Za  Fule  de  Madame  Angot," 
and  the  Libretto  written  by  Ai  fueb 
B.  Sedgwick.  One  Male,  One  Fe¬ 
male  Character. 

A  SINGLE  MAEEIED  MAN.- 

Comic  Operetta,  in  One  Act.  Tho 
Music  arranged  from  Offenbach’s 
celebrated  Opera  Bonffe,  “  Madame 
V Archiduc,"  and  the  Libretto  writ¬ 
ten  by  Alfred  B.  Sedgwick.  Six 
Male,  Two  Female  Characters. 


kOLLY  MORIARTY.  . — An  Irish 

*  Musical  Sketch,  in  One  Act.  Tho 
Music  composed  and  the  Dialogue 
written  by  Alfred  B.  Sedgwick. 
One  Male,  one  Female  Character. 
Suitable  for  the  Variety  Stage. 

THE  CHARGE  OF  THE  HASH 

BRIGADE. — A  Comic  Irish  Musical 


Sketch.  The  Musie  composed  and 
the  Libretto  written  by  Joseph  P. 
Skelly.  Two  Male,  two  Female 
Characters  Suitable  for  the  Variety 


Stage. 


GAMBRINUS.  KING  OF  LAGER 

BEER.— A  Musical  Ethiqpian  Bur¬ 
lesque,  in  One  Act.  Music  and  Dia¬ 
logue  by  Frank  Dumont.  Eight 
Male,  one  Female  Character.  Suita¬ 
ble  for  the  Ethiopian  Stage. 

AF-RICANUS  BLUEBEARD— A 

Musical  Ethiopian  Burlesque,  inOna 
Act.  Music  and  Dialogue  by  Frank 
Dumont.  Four  Male,  four  Female 
Characters.  Suitable  for  the  Ethio¬ 
pian  Stage. 


DE  WITT’fcS  ETHIOPIAN  AND  COMIC  DRAMA. — Continued. 


M.  F. 

33.  Jealous  Husband,  sketch  . .  2 


94.  Julius  the  Snoozer.  burlesque,  3  sc.  6  1 
103.  Katrina’s  Little  Game,  Dutch  act, 


1  scene  .  1  1 

1.  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  sketch .  3  L 

36.  Laughing  Gas,  sketch,  1  scene .  6  1 

18.  Live  Injun,  sketch,  4  scenes .  4  1 

60.  Lost  Will,  sketch  .  .  4 

37.  Lucky  Job,  farce,  2  scenes . 3  2 

90.  Lunatic  (The),  farce,  1  scene .  3 

109.  Making  a  Hit,  farce,  2  scenes .  4 

19.  Malicious  Trespass,  sketch,  1  scene.  3 
149.  ’Meriky,  Ethiopian  farce,  1  scene...  3  1 
151.  Micky  Free,  Irish  sketch,  1  scene..  5 

96.  Midnight  Intruder,  farce,  1  scene  .  6  1 


147.  Milliner’s  Shop  (The),  Ethiopian 

sketch,  1  scene . . .  2  2 

129.  Moko  Marionettes,  Ethiopian  eccen¬ 
tricity,  2  scenes  . !  4  5 

101.  Molly  Moriarty,  Irish  musical 

sketch,  1  scene . . .  1  1 

117  Motor  Bellows,  comedy,  1  act .  4 

44.  Musical  Servant,  sketch.  1  scene 3 

8.  Mutton  Trial,  sketch,  2  scenes  ....  4 
119.  My  Wife’s  Visitors,  comic  drama, lsc.  6  l 
49.  Night  in  a  Strange  Hotel, sketch, lsc.  2 
132.  Noble  Savage,  Ethi’n  sketch,  1  sc. ..  4 
145.  No  Pay  No  Cure,  Ethi’n  sketch,  1  sc.  5 
22.  Obeying  Orders,  sketch,  1  scene _  2  1 


27.  100th  Night  of  Hamlet,  sketch .  7  1 

125.  Oh,  Hush !  operatic  olio .  4  1 

30.  One  Night  in  a  Bar  Boom,  sketch . .  7 

114.  One  Night  in  a  Medical  College, 

Ethiopian  sketch,  1  scene .  7  1 

76.  Oue,  Two,  Three,  sketch,  1  scene. .  7 

91.  Painter’s  Apprentice,  farce,  1  scene.  5 
87.  Pete  and  the  Peddler,  Negro  and 

Irish  sketch,  1  scene .  2  1 

135.  Pleasant  Companions,  Ethiopian 

sketch,  1  scene . . .  5  1 

92.  Polar  Bear  (The),  farce,  1  scene. ...  4  1 

9.  Policy  Players,  sketch,  1  scene .  7 

57.  Pompey’s  Patients,  interlude,  2  sc..  6 

65.  Porter’s  Troubles,  sketch,  1  scene. .  G  1 

66.  Port  Wine  vs.  Jealousy,  sketch .  2  1 

115.  Private  Boarding,  comedy,  1  scene .  2  3 

14.  Kecruiting  Office,  sketch,  1  act .  5 

105.  Rehearsal  (The),  Irish  farce,  2  sc. . .  3  1 
45.  Remittance  from  Home.sketch.l  sc.  6 
55.  Rigging  a  Purchase,  sketch,  1  sc. ..  3 


M.  F. 

81.  Rival  Artists,  sketch,  1  scene .  4 

26.  Rival  Tenants,  sketch .  4 

138.  Rival  Barbers’  Shops  (The),  Ethio¬ 
pian  farce,  1  scene  . .  6  1 

15.  Sam’s  Courtship,  farce,  1  act. ......  2  1 

59.  Sausage  Makers,  sketch,  2  scenes. .  5  1 

21.  Scampini,  pantomime,  2  scenes _ 3  3 

80.  Scenes  on  th«  Mississippi,  sketch, 

2  scenes . . .  6 

84.  Serenade  (The),  sketch,  2  scenes....  7 

38.  Siamese  Twins,  sketch,  2  scenes _  5 

74.  Sleep  Walker,  sketch,  2  scenes......  3 

46.  Slippery  Day,  sketch,  1  scene .  6  1  i 

69.  Squire  tor  a  Day,  sketch . 5  1  I 

56.  Stage-struck  Couple,  interlude,  1  sc.  2  1  I 

72.  Stranger,  burlesque,  1  scene .  1  2  ' 

13.  Streets  of  New  York,  sketch,  1  sc. . .  6 

16.  Storming  the  Fort,  sketch,  1  scene.  5 

7.  Stupid  Servant,  sketch,  1  scene _  2 

121.  Stocks  Up!  Stocks  Down!  Negro 

duologue,  1  scene... .  2 

47.  Take  It,  Don’t  Take  It,  sketch,  1  sc.  2 

54.  Them  Papers,  sketch,  1  scene .  3 

100.  Three  Chiefs  (The),  sketch,  1  scene.  6 

102.  Three  A.  M.,  sketch,  2  scenes . 3  1 

34.  Three  Strings  to  one  Bow,  sketch, 

1  scene . 4  1 

122.  Ticket  Taker,  Ethi’n  farce,  1  scene!  3 

2.  Tricks,  sketch .  5  2 

104.  Two  Awfuls  (The),  sketch,  1  scene..  5 
5.  Two  Black  Roses,  sketch .  4  ] 

28.  Uncle  Eph’s  Dream,  sketch,  2  sc. . .  3  1 
134.  Unlimited  Cheek,  sketch,  1  scene..  4  1 

62.  Vinegar  Bitters,  sketch,  1  scene _  6  1 

32.  Wake  up,  William  Henry,  sketch...  3 

39.  Wanted,  a  Nurse,  sketch,  1  scene...  4 

75.  Weston,  the  Walkist,  Dutch  sketch, 

1  scene .  7  1 

93.  What  shall  I  Take?  sketch,  1  scene,  7  1 

29.  Who  Died  First?  sketch,  1  scene. . .  3  1 
97.  Who's  the  Actor?  farce,  1  scene. ...  4 

137.  Whose  Baby  is  it  ?  Ethiopian  sketch, 


1  scene .  2  1 

143.  Wonderful  Telephone  (The),  Ethio¬ 
pian  sketch,  1  scene .  4  1 

99.  Wrong  Woman  in  the  Right  Place, 

sketch,  2  scenes  . .  2  2 

85.  Young  Scamp,  sketch,  1  scene.. _  3 

116.  Zacharias’  Funeral,  farce,  1  scene..  5 


A  COMPLETE  DESCRIPTIVE  CATALOGUE  OF  DE  WITT’S  ACT 
ING  PLAYS  AND  DE  WITT’S  ETHIOPIAN  AND  COMIC  DRAMAS 


containing  Plot,  Costume,  Scenery,  Time  of  Representation,  and  all  other  informa¬ 
tion,  mailed  free  and  post  paid  on  application.  Address 


DE  WITT,  Publisher, 

33  Rose  Street,  IVew  York. 


W'tm 


Ai  Mispensalile  Bool  for  Amateurs. 

- ♦  — ♦ — « - 

HOW  TO  MANAGE 
AMATSHB  THEATBICALS, 

Being  plain  instructions  for  construction  and  arrangement  of  Stage, 
making  Scenery,  getting  up  Costumes,  “ Making  Upv  to  represent 
different  ages  and  characters,  and  how  to  produce  stage  Illusions  and 
Effects.  Also  hints  for  the  management  of  Amateur  Dramatic  Clubs, 
and  a  list  of  pieces  suitable  for  Drawing  Room  Performances.  Hand¬ 
somely  illustrated  with  Colored  Plates. 

Price ,  25  Cents . 


DE  WITT’S  SELECTIONS 


FOR 

AMATEDR  AND  PARLOR  THEATRICALS. 

Nos.  1,  2,  3,  4  &  5. 

Being  choice  selections  from  the  very  best  Dramas,  Comedies  and 
Farces.  Specially  adapted  for  presentation  by  Amateurs,  and  for 
Parlor  and  Drawing  Room  Entertainments. 

Each  number ,  25  Cents. 


PANTOMIME  PLAY, 

“HUMPTY  DUMPTY” 

The  celebrated  Pantomime,  as  originally  played  for  1,000  nights  by  the 
late  George  L.  Fox.  Arranged  by  John  Denier.  Esq.  Eight  male, 
four  female  characters. 

Price ,  25  Cents . 


r 


i 


